therealmhs

[therealmhs]

[therealmhs]

Why is this guy always on the verge of tears throughout the whole series?????

[therealmhs]

[therealmhs]

[therealmhs]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 27

Chapters: 27/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92, @bridkesby @gallantys . If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know.

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

Author's note: Writing this chapter was pure joy. It features heartwarming romance, and some absolutely NEEDED smut. I've also added a bit of additional lore about the Reader and story in general, which will eventually transition to the sequel based on season 2. The new episodes will premiere in less than two weeks from today, and that feels absolutely unreal! The moment Chapter 28 will be posted, we'll be already halfway through the second season.

This chapter contains A LOT of tooth rotting fluff, and I'm not even ashamed. I plan to complete this story within the next three chapters, and I suspect the sequel will inevitably force me to add a good amount of drama and emotional traumas, even though I'm working behind the scenes to create an alternative ending that will hopefully make sense. As we know, things are definitely getting darker and more tragic this time around.

WARNING: NSFW and huge chappy ahead.

As more mysteries unfolded and your light powers grew stronger in the Waking World, you cherished every moment with your King of Dreams and the child growing in your womb.

Consciousness returned as you surveyed the chamber Morpheus had crafted within his castle, the amethyst formations casting a gentle glow beneath the ornate canopy, while beyond the window doors stretched the infinite expanse of the dream realm, beckoning with its distant sounds.

You were shaken by pure relief as you confirmed that your reconciliation had indeed been real, dispelling the momentary anxiety that had accompanied your waking state. Your fingertips traced the intricate patterns of the celestial bedding, your nightgown seamlessly merging with the stellar design.

As you adjusted to the dimly lit surroundings and attempted to sit upright, a sudden wave of intense nausea overcame you, compelling you to rise from the bed and make your way to the adjacent washroom. Though you had managed to hold it back until now, your stomach demanded release as you hurried across the polished floor and knelt before the toilet. The feeling was far from pleasant—your throat burned as if lava were pouring out, your eyes clenched shut as you held yourself steady.

Exhausted breaths escaped you as your voice reverberated through the spacious room. Despite your discomfort, you found yourself letting out a weary laugh at the sight of the ethereal liquid in the basin, which swirled around on its own and immediately returned to its pristine appearance.

Rising to your feet, you approached the sink where the mirror reflected your fatigued countenance, dark circles beneath your eyes, your face now bare of makeup. You let the cool water flow over your hands, its gentle cascade providing a moment of respite as you sipped from your cupped hands, letting the cool water refresh your palate and cleanse away the lingering bitterness. The acrid taste faded completely, replaced by subtle hints of mint and lavender.

With a deep exhale, you gripped the sides of the sink as a shadow shifted behind you. Meeting Morpheus' gaze in the mirror, you offered him a smile before turning to face his concerned expression.

“Hey.”

"You are in pain," he observed, his eyes settling softly on your midsection.

"Well, that's a well-known side effect of pregnancy. I'm learning to cope with it," you replied with a shrug.

"I was not present for you when you needed me," he stated, his velvet voice tinged with regret. "I have failed in my responsibility to ease your burden."

"This isn't a burden, Morpheus. I'm carrying your child. And you're here now."

You leaned forward, nestling against his chest as his hands gently encircled your waist, his lips coming to rest against your forehead.

"You are here, aren't you? This is real."

"I am quite real," he reassured you. "And I shall not abandon you to solitude again."

You hummed contentedly, breathing in his anchoring scent, the blend of sandalwood and herbal musk bringing deep comfort.

He gently loosened his embrace as his fingers traced the material of your nightgown, following the curve of your hips and settling against your stomach. "You require rest, my sweet."

Your legs trembled slightly as your symptoms persisted, the sickness rushing back the moment he guided you away from the washroom and back to the king-sized bed. As you sank gracefully onto the pillows and Morpheus seated himself at the edge of the bed, a pang of sharp pain caused you to wince, a soft groan escaping your lips as your brow furrowed in distress.

"Ugh. This little one is certainly stubborn," you said. "As much as I love her, I'd kill for a full night's sleep."

Without a word, Morpheus extended his hand toward your abdomen, his palm resting gently against the fabric covering the growing swell beneath. In an instant, the nausea dissipated again, replaced by a strong sense of tranquility that permeated your entire body, from your toes to the tips of your hair.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into the mattress. “Mhh…”

"Is your suffering eased, my love?"

"Oh yes. Whatever you're doing, it's absolutely working."

You reached for his palm, pressing it more firmly against your stomach as you offered another smile. "Thank you."

"To tend to you, to care for you while you carry our child... it is my deepest honor, and my sacred duty."

Your eyes glistened in the soft light of the room as the amethysts' purple luminescence reflected across his skin, tracing the contour of his jaw.

"I've really missed you, Morpheus," you reiterated. "Without you, I felt so lost."

"I was... blind. A fool who could not see what was before him. I am truly and deeply sorry."

"I wanted to hate you," you blurted out, causing him to freeze. "I wanted to be angry with you for the rest of my life."

His head hung low. "And yet you have chosen to forgive me. Why?"

"Because I love you," you replied simply. "And I knew that even if I wanted to, I could never despise you. How could I, when you've become everything to me?"

"Such kindness is undeserved."

"And why do you think that?"

"I who swore to be your eternal protector have instead caused you the deepest of wounds."

Your lower lip trembled. "You broke my heart."

"Yes."

"But you never intended to."

"No matter."

"It does matter. Your love for me is unmistakable."

His fingers traced small, soothing strokes, the gentle motion endearing. “I do love you. More than all the stories ever dreamed.”

"That's all I need, really. As painful and frightening as it was, I never truly stopped waiting for you."

"Would you still have welcomed me back into your heart, had our child not bound us together?" he asked, his tone carrying both hope and resignation.

You answered with absolute conviction. "Of course. Without a moment's hesitation."

“I…”

"Morpheus, I'm not here with you simply because of the pregnancy. Even before I knew I was expecting, all I wanted was your return."

"After bearing witness to my nature, to the darkness of my actions, to the weight of centuries of pain I have inflicted. You desire my presence still."

You chuckled. "You speak as though that were something inconceivable."

"In my eternal existence, all those I have loved, were inevitably lost."

You tightened your grip around his hand, brushing your thumb across his knuckles. "And yet here I am. The past doesn't dictate the future. I may not agree with all your decisions, but that's what love is about. I won't turn against you just because we have different approaches."

"You possess such strength of spirit, such profound wisdom. Your heart holds a compassion that even the stars would envy. You could have chosen an ordinary existence, a life untouched by nightmares, free from the weight of immortal beings."

You shook your head vigorously. "A life without you? What kind of horrible existence would that be?"

His eyes softened, a faint crimson tinge returning to them. “My love…”

"You must stop diminishing yourself this way. I understand you want what's best for me, but I thought we had moved past your assumption that I couldn't find happiness with you. You said yourself that the book was a trial, one we successfully overcame."

He listened attentively, his throat constricting.

"That first time I saw you—caged, emotionally broken, stripped of everything—I could still perceive your greatness. I felt your power radiating through the glass. And in that moment, everything finally clicked into place."

Your chest tightened as memories flooded back, from your first step into the Burgess estate to the life-changing moment you stood before the Lord of Dreams.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. "I no longer felt empty, because deep down I knew you were that missing piece of me I had been searching for all along."

A faint, vulnerable smile crossed his lips.

"I know that sounds rather sentimental," you continued. "But I assure you, this was never some fleeting, childish infatuation."

"Such thoughts have never crossed my mind."

Your eyelids felt heavy now, but you fought against sleep. "When I was a child, unable to dream, I would often hope The Sandman would visit my room, sprinkling sand into my eyes to guide me into the world of dreams."

You wrapped your hands around his wrist, holding onto him like an anchor.

"If only I had known that one day I would fall in love with him. That unbeknownst to me, he would become the most beautiful dream imaginable, and welcome me into his realm."

Before he could respond, a laugh bubbled up and spilled from your lips. "I can't imagine what you must have thought of me that day. I was such a mess back then, wasn't I?"

He tilted his head slightly, watching you with those deep, unfathomable eyes that seemed to contain entire galaxies within their depths. "That is not quite accurate, my love."

"Oh, come on, Morpheus. Be honest," you said with a wide grin. "I promise I won't get offended."

He arched a brow, clearly amused by your playful self-deprecation. "I thought you were the most magnificent mortal I had ever seen. Your spirit burned like a spark in the darkness."

Your teasing smile softened into something more tender. "Really?"

He nodded, his free hand reaching to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. "I saw your kindness, your strength, your refusal to stand idly by in the face of wrongdoing. And though I dared not acknowledge it then, you awakened something ancient within me that I had long forgotten existed.”

"And now?" you asked, your gaze soft and full of love. "What do you think of me now?"

Morpheus leaned in closer, his expression warm and unguarded, the way he reserved only for you. "Now... I believe you are my redemption. And that has been truth itself since the moment you first crossed my path."

"So, I wasn't just some annoying human after all?"

"No, my love," he denied, his tone light but sincere. "You were always a rather remarkable creature."

"Remember when I grabbed that chair and tried to break the glass before they dragged me away? Looking back, I was quite reckless. That was hardly what I'd call remarkable."

“Reckless? Perhaps,” he admitted with fondness. "Yet I found your courage most admirable."

"Admirable? Me, wildly swinging a chair around like a lunatic? I was about to make a complete fool of myself, and you consider that admirable?"

The corners of his mouth twitched upward even more. "Yes. In a world that has grown accustomed to turning a blind eye, you chose to confront that which you deemed unjust. Such defiance... such resolve... it revealed the very essence of your being."

You looked down at his hand, still tracing soft patterns along your abdomen. "Well, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound so ridiculous, does it?"

"Such an act was anything but ridiculous. You brought change to what had remained static for millennia. In you, I glimpsed... the first ray of hope I had known since the dawn of dreams."

Your cheeks flushed as you shifted deeper into the pillows. "Even when my heroic moment was nothing more than a chair and blind fury?" You paused thoughtfully, a soft hum escaping your throat once more. "The chair-wielding hero and the Dream King. Quite the dramatic pair, aren't we?"

His visage filled with admiration. "And now... we are three."

Your heart fluttered like a butterfly, wild and free. "And she gets to hear the tale of how her father met her mother. What a wonderful bedtime story that would make."

His fingers spread further across your covered belly, tracing the imperceptible rhythm of the baby's stirring, growing inside. "And she shall weave stories of her own, as the Princess of the Dreaming, a bridge between realms mortal and eternal."

"Who would have imagined that from that day in the basement, we'd find ourselves here, together in your castle, with a child on the way?"

He regarded you quietly for a moment, his gaze filled with an unspoken gratitude. "You have given me the most precious of gifts imaginable, treasures beyond measure. Your heart… and a child."

"And I would face a thousand Corinthians, a million Desires, and an infinite number of Hecates if it meant staying with you, where I belong. That is never going to change, for as long as this mortal life grants me."

"Then allow me to be worthy of your love and forgiveness. To guide you through the realm of dreams that was barred to you for so long. Let me care for my Queen... and our Little Star."

Your body trembled with excitement, your teeth gleaming in the dim light as you giggled. "I want nothing more. Words can't express how happy this makes me."

Your hand fell to your side, but his remained still, placed above your womb. No sand was needed—his voice alone served as the enchanted key, low and powerful, enveloping you like a protective haven. “Sleep, my beautiful Y/N.”

Your eyelids fell softly shut, your breathing deep and steady. "Morpheus?" you called, your voice barely audible.

"Tell me, my love."

Hovering between wakefulness and sleep, your body floating weightlessly, you felt compelled to share your thoughts, knowing that Morpheus would hear them regardless of your state of consciousness.

"Our daughter is going to adore you."

Deep within your being, you sensed an inexplicable connection between the developing life inside you and Morpheus, an authentic bond that surpassed the typical biological limitations of early pregnancy, as if your child already possessed an awareness of and longing for her father's presence.

Exhaustion finally claimed you as you drifted back into the realm outside, your mind surrendering to its gentle embrace. Slipping into slumber, Morpheus' resonant voice gradually faded from distinct utterances to otherworldly whispers, eventually becoming one with the ambient essence of the Dreaming.

"And I shall spend every waking moment of your existence ensuring you know the depth of devotion the King of Dreams holds for you both."

You stretched your arms gracefully as you traversed the polished floor of your chamber, your bare feet silent against the cool surface while your nightgown swayed elegantly at knee-length. After completing your morning ablutions, your skin carried a subtle fragrance from your bath, and your slightly damp hair felt like strands of satin against your skin.

Stepping onto the balcony, you were greeted by the mystical dreaming sky and verdant landscape, their beauty even more enchanting than the previous evening. The Dreaming was full of life, rich and prosperous, in a way you hadn't seen for quite a while.

The sound of beating wings could be heard in the distance, growing louder as the familiar, magnificent animal approached from the horizon. The wind stirred around you, and you watched the dragon descending, gliding elegantly before your balcony with its golden scales shimmering beneath the dreamlight. You smiled warmly at the majestic beast, who acknowledged your presence with a gentle dip of its head before continuing its patrol of the realm.

You ran your hands along the parapet, feeling the cool, solid marble beneath your fingers. This was real, you had truly returned to the realm of dreams in physical form, fully awake and present. The air carried the mingled scents of moonflowers, fresh grass, and sea salt. Soft chants and lullabies floated through the æther, accompanied by delicate chimes that seemed to ring in celebration.

Then, a presence rippled behind you, heralding the arrival of the monarch himself. You spun around with enthusiastic energy, grinning in delight as Morpheus came into view. His dark presence was framed by white curtains, billowing around him like dancing silk, mirroring your recent dream.

He was breathtaking, regal and powerful, his eyes like twin pools of celestial marvels.

You moved instinctively toward him, arms outstretched as you rushed to embrace him, pressing your lips to his with passionate fervor. Morpheus made a soft sound of surprise before yielding into the kiss, his fingers weaving gently through your hair.

"Hi," you whispered breathlessly, rising on tiptoes as you clung to his shoulders.

His hold was strong, hands now pressing against the small of your back, requiring minimal effort from you to stay upright.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

Reluctantly pulling away, you placed your palms around his neck, fingers toying with the back of his dark locks. "You worked a miracle, I can't remember the last time I woke up without morning sickness."

A satisfied smile graced Morpheus' features. "You find yourself in my realm now. It seems the Dreaming itself embraces our child, offering its protection."

"It's not just the Dreaming, it's you. I can't explain it, but I feel this peace inside me... and I know it isn't mine alone."

"Then it shall be my greatest pleasure to attend to both of your needs."

Your mouth crashed against his again, your body inching closer as your inhibitions dissolved. "Good. Because right now, I simply cannot stay away from you. And our little one seems to agree."

"I am yours entirely," he breathed. "And I will remain by your side for all of existence."

The air filled with nothing but gentle melodies; lips meeting in tender kisses, sighs, and rustling clothing. His mouth traced a path down your neck with feather-light touches, each kiss softer than the last, until reaching the delicate slope of your shoulder. His fingers found the strap of your nightgown, lowering it with care—your heart fluttering, breath growing shallow as your eyes closed in pleasure.

For weeks, you had longed to feel him close to you, to hear the low, rich timber of his voice, and to experience his devotion anew. Now here he was, standing before you in all his splendor, treating you as if you were the most precious being across all worlds. 

"I heard your voice that night, my love." 

His statement pierced through your thoughts like lightning, rendering you temporarily awestruck as your mind struggled to comprehend its significance. 

"My voice?"

"It cut through the endless void I had created, more beautiful than any dream I have ever woven."

"But I'm only human,

And I bleed when I fall down,

I'm only human, and I crash and I break down,

Your words in my head, knives in my heart,

You build me up and then I fall apart,

Cause I'm only human.”

Through the dazzling stage lights that illuminated the room, you had caught a glimpse of a dark, statuesque silhouette in the blurry mist. Your rational mind attempted to dismiss it as nothing more than a trick of the light, born from your desperate wishes and hopeful heart.

"You were there…? I thought I had imagined it."

"You did not. I heard every word, felt all of it."

"I was hoping you would."

His lips pressed against your skin, his nose inhaling its fresh scent. "You are far more than merely human, my heart. In fact, I wish to prove it to you.”

"Morpheus," his name escaped like a prayer, like a spell you wished to bind to you forever. "I—"

"Yes," his answer came with absolute certainty. He knew precisely what you wanted, and he would give you far more than you could ever dream of asking for.

Your body trembled with anticipation as his lips traced their journey back up, finding yours once more. “Say my name again… and again.”

"I could speak your name all day, Morpheus."

“Again.”

“Morpheus.”

“More, my love. It is pure music when spoken by these perfect lips of yours.”

And so you obliged, between passionate kisses, breathing his name over and over with growing enthusiasm. "I really want you. I need you."

"You shall have me. Every fragment of my being, for all of eternity."

Morpheus' sentence hinted at something big; a love that would stretch far beyond the years at your disposal. While mortality meant your time was finite, the prospect of living forever had begun to intrigue you with each passing day. Hob's proposition of eternal life, the chance to share endless days with Morpheus and your child, held an increasingly compelling appeal that you could no longer dismiss.

For now, however, your thoughts were consumed only by the Lord of Dreams, the sovereign of your heart.

Suddenly, as your kisses became more insistent, a luminous golden light emanated from your hands where they rested against his chest. The same glowing energy that had formed in your previous nightly adventures, the very force which had brought you to the Book of Paradoxes, now returned with heightened force, extending along your arms in intricate, vein-like patterns of radiant filaments. 

"Oh!"

"Y/N?"

You took a step backward, staring at your hands in visible apprehension, as he observed in silent contemplation. "Right, about this... I haven't told you yet."

"I am aware of this development," he replied. “My love, you—”

"Wait, don't. I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe... maybe you should stay away from me until it stops."

While there was no evidence suggesting your power could be dangerous, given its apparent role in healing the Dreaming’s wounds and escorting you to prophetic knowledge, its true nature was still undefined. Though Hob had no adverse effects after coming into contact with it in the Waking World, you couldn't completely dismiss the possibility of unforeseen implications.

But Morpheus would not be deterred, his face set with resolute purpose. His cool hands reached for yours, fingers gliding along your skin until his own began to shimmer with gold.

"This energy, this light... it stems from pure goodness itself. You cannot harm me."

"But… I still don't understand what it truly is."

"It has always resided in you. Slumbering beneath the surface. A power as old as your very existence." He cupped your face, his thumb caressing beneath your eye as your irises sparkled with incandescent fire. "You possess such exquisite radiance. You look so beautiful, my love."

"I'm carrying Morpheus' child. Clearly, these powers are coming from the baby."

Astra's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "In part, yes. But I believe there's more to it than that."

"What do you mean? I'm only human, Astra. Morpheus is the one who has full control over this realm, not me. And surely, his child is no different."

"You may not have direct control over the Dreaming, but I think you're more than you believe yourself to be. This golden light? It's undoubtedly coming from you."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I never had it before. This is no coincidence."

"Look, I may not have all the answers—and truly, only he would know for certain. But as a supernatural creature myself, Y/N, I can assure you that this magic isn't coming from our future Prince or Princess of the Dreaming. Not entirely at least."

"So Astra was right… this power isn't coming from the baby, is it?"

"Our daughter has awakened something that was latent, something that has always been yours: Your kindness shining like a beacon, your outstanding bravery, and the wisdom in your words bringing solace to those who hear them."

The tendrils of light swirled and transformed, slowly retreating until they settled at your fingertips. “What does this make me?”

"You are who you have always been. The very same mortal who came to me that fateful day. The one who earned my love. The one who now carries my child."

Kissing the crown of your hair, he enveloped your upper arms with gentle care. "You are my Y/N. You belong here, with me."

"I always have. And I always will, until the end of time."

"You are mine, and no one else's."

The golden light faded completely, your skin returning to its natural state. With another kiss, you sealed your promise of infinite loyalty and adoration, meant for him and him alone.

"So much has changed in my life since I met you. When I look at you, I see my entire future. You're everything I'll ever need; whether I live forever or remain mortal, it doesn't matter."

"Your courage astounds me, and your spirit is boundless. I shall ensure that every facet of your being remains untarnished, shielding you from the darkness of doubt and uncertainty."

Your fingers moved across his shoulder blades. "I want you to take me, Morpheus. Please… make love to me."

Your words acted like a magical trigger, unleashing something neither of you could contain.

"Then, let me show you pleasures that only I, the King of All Dreams, can offer you.”

Morpheus' gaze turned wild, his eyes darkening with hunger as they took in every inch of you, his lips magnetically drawn to yours. You were entangled like chain links, united like two ends of the same thread.

"There's no other living creature in the entire universe who could compare."

You walked to the bed where the sheets lay disheveled from your night's sleep. He followed close behind, his lips wet and plump, staring at your face as though you were the most exquisite delicacy to savor. You eased onto the mattress, your hand in his, as his knees pressed into the plush surface and advanced toward you.

You parted your legs to welcome him, his coat opening behind. Your eyes met in silent intensity as his palm traced slowly up your thigh, your nightgown following the path upward. A shiver ran through you as he looked at your abdomen, where the subtle curve of your growing belly revealed itself before him.

"You are... truly magnificent."

"If I am magnificent, then you are utterly glorious."

"You are bearing this precious life within you. I am merely a vessel through which this miracle came to be."

"You say that as if it weren't important."

"It is, but this child is unlike any other. You carry a being of extraordinary power, and you do so with remarkable grace."

You laughed. "Please tell me she won't suddenly pop out in a matter of days."

His eyebrow raised in confusion. "’Pop out’?"

"I mean, look at Lyta. She became pregnant one day and went into labor almost immediately."

"She conceived with a ghost in dreams, with time itself bending to the will of my realm. She was under the influence of the Vortex, distorting reality in ways that cannot occur to you."

"Well, that's reassuring. I was a bit worried there for a moment… this is your child we're talking about, after all."

His hands resumed their exploration, coming to your chest, your skin warming at the cool contact. “But she is also yours. We shall witness her journey unfold at her own natural rhythm.”

"That is good to know—ah!"

Your body quivered as he reached your breasts, the soft material of your attire grazing your nipples as it gathered around your collarbones. Morpheus' throat bobbed at the sight, your peaks hardening instantly in the cool air.

“Morpheus—”

“Look at you,” he murmured teasingly. “I have barely touched you, my love. And already your body trembles beneath my hands."

"I need more," you purred. "Give it to me, Morpheus."

His temples met yours, sharing the intimate space where adoring sighs met. "Tell me. What fantasies shall I bring to life for you?"

"Just… keep going. Touch every part of me."

"Mh."

Delighting in your need, Morpheus moved lower, leaving your breasts neglected and yearning for his attention. “Perhaps I should begin with these delectable legs of yours.”

His hands slid sensually up your thighs, pausing to rest at your hips, deliberately avoiding where you ached for him the most.

"Or perhaps, this." He caressed your waist, the gesture loving rather than lustful as he finally made direct contact with your swelling. "Here where my creation stirs, a testament of what we have made together."

"I can't wait to see you holding her. The mere thought makes my heart soar."

"For now, I can hold our child through you. Though I suspect her mother has... other needs at this moment."

You exhaled shakily. "As much as I like this... yes. You're driving me crazy."

"Would you prefer I move my hands... higher, my love?"

At last, his palms enclosed around your breasts, caressing them with profound reverence, holding them as if they were precious jewels meant for eternal worship. When his thumbs brushed against the rigid tips, an electric shock surged through your form, intensified by weeks of separation and your heightened sensitivity. His movements were unhurried and precise, setting your nerves ablaze as your impatience mounted at an unbearable speed.

You moaned, your lower lip caught between your teeth. "Y-yes. Exactly like that."

“You are a masterpiece,” he expressed. "Your hair is like molten sunlight."

Remnants of light cascaded along your tresses, flowing downward until they merged into your heart.

“Your neck, so elegant and graceful… a column of pure beauty.”

He punctuated each word with a new kiss, beginning at your hairline and trailing his affections down your cheek before returning to your throat.

“And your breasts… perfection incarnate. Like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked.”

Your heart thundered, its fierce rhythm pounding in your ears.

“Please—”

“Allow your King to take care of you.”

His lips closed around one peak, savoring it with sweet abandon. Gentle, wet sounds were produced as his mouth released and reclaimed each nipple, his desire for you insatiable. You moaned again, your head falling back, fingers clutching the sheets for support. Your skin burned with rosy patches blooming across your body, each sigh and gasp urging him onward.

His measured, languid kisses and licks upon your nipples were earth-shattering, a sensation beyond description.

“You are a temptation I cannot resist,” he said hoarsely, his lips descending, where moments ago his hands had wandered. “So soft. So perfect. Made for me.”

He kissed along your stomach, lingered at your navel, and traced the stretching muscles underneath. "Our child. She dreams even now, fragile as a newly formed star, yet far more formidable than we can imagine."

You stroked his hair, noticing how his right hand grasped your knee, guiding your legs further apart. "She is the daughter of the Lord of Dreams. Of course she'll become invincible."

"And with you as her mother, no being would dare stand against her."

"Ah!"

Your hips jerked and twisted as his middle and forefinger captured your clit, still covered by the thin layer of black cotton. He moved them in tentative circles, causing you to writhe and groan, the amethysts above glittering and chiming like magical bells in response.

His fingers curled under the elastic bands, holding their position. “May I?”

With a mere thought, he could have made the garment vanish into a swirling cloud of sand, no questions asked, leaving you bare and exposed without preambles.

"I love how thoughtful you are with me, but you can do anything, Morpheus. Right now... I just want you to take the damn thing off and make me scream."

A deep, guttural growl rumbled in his chest as his lips pressed against your inner thigh in appreciation, his gaze perpetually fixed on yours. Holding your panties on both sides, he slid them down your hips excruciatingly slowly, trailing the silken fabric along your legs and past your ankles. The motion was sinuous and erotic, yet incredibly grounding and absolutely right.

Letting the undergarment drop to the floor, Morpheus beheld your form with such zeal that for a moment, words failed him entirely. You were like a sacred sanctuary, an unyielding storm that bends but never breaks, a goddess carved in time and space. You were living poetry, a flame that set his endless world alight.

No sculptor's chisel nor painter's brush could capture the spectacle laid out upon these celestial sheets. Your chest rose and fell more rapidly, the nightgown still bunched above your breasts, leaving them bared. Your clit pulsed with irrepressible urgency, beckoning him to feast upon the divine offering in front of him, like a pearl in moonlight.

And so, drawn by your silent invitation, Morpheus lowered himself to your center, his tongue ravenous to taste. Your eyes rolled shut, head pressed into the pillow, your legs quaking as your fingers wove through his hair. He was relentless, his tongue exploring and consuming, one hand settling protectively over your abdomen as the other gripped your thigh.

"A-ah! Morpheus, I... wait—"

You were already about to tumble over the edge, faster than you had thought possible. He didn't cease, merely responding with a deep "Mmh" while increasing both pressure and pace. You cried out, gripping his hair as pleasure-filled moans escaped your lips, your voice climbing higher.

It crashed over you like an unstoppable cyclone, your orgasm bursting forth unrestrained and overwhelming in its raw power. Your body tensed and shuddered as his mouth coaxed every wave of pleasure, from the apex of euphoria to the sweet, lingering aftershocks.

Spent and breathless, you collapsed onto the bed, your limbs heavy and tingling. Your cheeks tinted with a deep scarlet, your hands covering your face in shy embarrassment.

Your voice emerged muffled, barely audible through your fingers. "I'm so sorry..."

"Why do you apologize, my love?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

"I didn't mean to finish so quickly."

With a gentle smile, he grasped your wrists and moved your hands away from your face, revealing your wide, teary eyes. "You are exquisite in your vulnerability, my sweet."

"I am not," you pouted, lips forming a delicate frown.

"You deserve every moment of pleasure. After all, I am the King of Dreams - it is my privilege to fulfill your deepest longings. To care for you as I could not during our time apart. And now that you have returned to me, I shall ensure you want for nothing."

A peaceful sigh escaped you as your body surrendered into contentment. "You always know exactly what to say."

"And I will tell you more, praise you, cherish you, through all the days to come."

You pulled him down into a kiss, tasting your own essense on his lips as he positioned himself above you, your legs parted on either side. You could feel his hardness pressing against your core, yet he remained patient, awaiting your consent, relinquishing all control.

Your hand brushed along his shoulder, sliding over the thin material of his shirt until reaching its edge. You let your fingers slip under the hem, grazing his lean muscles, pale skin against ebony clothes, which contracted at the slight caress. Then, you deftly undid his trousers, his manhood meeting your touch as you proceeded, proud and erect for you to receive.

"Do you think I will be a good mother?" you asked him, wrapping your palm around his shaft, finally free from its restraint.

"You are going to be extraordinary. Of that, I have no doubt. Mh—"

"I could never do this with anyone but you."

Directing his length to your entrance, you held him there for a heartbeat, balanced at the threshold.

His patience had worn thin, his body trembling with restraint. “I must confess, I find my resolve has reached its end. In fact, I cannot wait any longer.”

You grinned, moistening your lips as he eased himself between your folds, just enough for his tip to be enveloped by your heat.

“I wish to claim you as mine. Will you grant me this?”

"Morpheus, honestly!” You laughed, overcome with infinite love for this being between your legs as you clutched the shawl collar of his coat. “What more do you need me to say? I'm already taking you inside me and have no intention of stopping. Just do it, claim me. There's nothing I want more than this, more than you."

At that, Morpheus' resistance finally crumbled, leaving only an insatiable craving for you and his own physical need. With a rough, powerful thrust, he entered your body to the hilt, making you whimper and convulse. His pelvis established a rhythmic motion, tranquil at first, only to inevitably quicken at the incessant sound of your moans.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting his movements as your lips and tongues melded together in a battle of dominance, one neither of you was truly willing to win.

“Tell me, my love. Is this to your satisfaction?”

You were in absolute ecstasy, your inner walls clenching and tightening around him with each thrust, sweeping away every ounce of decorum. "Yes! You are incredible. Harder!"

"Harder?"

"Please."

His length twitched and pulsed, joining with you like two pieces of one whole. "If that is what you wish."

Morpheus obliged, shifting his position before driving into you with breathtaking force. His arms held you with fierce desperation, as if you might dissolve into mist and leave him stranded in desolate loneliness. He rocked against you with deep, commanding movements, his ragged breaths and growls filling your ear.

You were the light that pirouetted through his shade, divinity wrapped in mortal form. He wanted to map constellations on your skin, every inch of your being, immersing himself in your brilliance.

“So tight, so wet. All mine.”

"I absolutely am. Forever and always. I've been yours from the beginning, even when I didn't know you; when you were nothing more than a fairy story."

He slowed momentarily, sweeping the hair from your face, shaking with bridled eagerness. "You have brought me to my knees. Even my realm holds no sway in your presence."

You inhaled, adjusting your position, pushing your legs further up around his hips and crossing your ankles against his lower back.

He resumed, pushing in and out of you with demanding insistence. "Your voice echoes through the endless halls of my castle. Love me, crave me, call out for me."

"Yes, yes! I love you, Morpheus. I love you so much. I'm so close—I can feel it building. Please don't stop."

"I shall see you through to the very end," he promised. "Let me feel every tremor, every wave of your ecstasy. Give yourself to me and I shall take you beyond the confines of dreams."

"You do that every day, even in absence—ngh! Ah, Morpheus!"

"Yes... surrender everything to me."

The wet sounds mingled with the crystal chimes as you both teetered on the edge of rapturous release. His fingers found their way back to your chest, teasing your nipple with a delicate squeeze. As that familiar tension coiled at your core, you reached down to rub your clit, synchronizing with the rhythm of his thrusts until the combined sensations built into an exquisite crescendo that would utterly shatter you.

"Seeing you writhe in my arms, pleasuring yourself before me... you are nothing short of sublime."

“Oh….!”

And then it arrived, just as powerful as the first, a climax that made your toes curl and eyes shut in exhilaration. Your hand closed around his, holding it against your breast as your body gave in, tightening around him in pulsing contractions.

His hips bucked wildly, his own limit approaching. “I—I… I-”

"Do it, please!"

With that, his body heated up as his pleasure erupted forward like a cosmic flare. He stared at you, presenting the most splendid sight of the Dream Lord lost in pure delight, jerking and filling you with the warmth of his seed. He was gorgeous, enticing in every way conceivable, your fingers still circling your sensitive nub to savor the last ripples of your orgasm, until you could take no more.

When at last you both stilled, a peaceful silence fell between you, wrapped in your embrace and sharing gentle kisses. You listened attentively to the soundscape outside, from the distant dragon's passage to the dream choruses and soft turn of pages.

"That was… wow," you revealed, panting.

"Was it?"

"Mm-hmm. Amazing."

"You are marvelous, my Queen," he intoned. "Making love to you is my greatest indulgence."

"’Queen’," you mused. "I rather like that."

“You are. My magnificent goddess of light. My everything.”

Shifting to sit up, his softening length slipping from you, you took his face between your hands and looked at him with the brightest of smiles. "I don't know how I became worthy of your love, but I wouldn't trade this life for any other."

"Worth is hardly sufficient to describe you, my love. You would bring even the mightiest beings to submission."

"I don't care for other beings, I only want to be with you."

"You have me. I am yours, irrevocably."

You guided his hand to rest upon your abdomen, pressing your lips to his shoulder through the woolen material of his coat. Your nightgown pooled delicately at your waist as he stroked your hair, his fingers grazing your neck while keeping his head against yours.

In the tranquil moments that followed, quiet spoke more than words as the Dreaming bore witness to your souls inexorably intertwined, a new life flourishing and linking the mortal and immortal realms as one.

"Bloody hell, you're joking, right?"

You chuckled, shaking your head, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you washed mugs. "I assure you, I am not. Why would I jest about such a matter?"

"How is it you've got every bloody mystical creature in creation flockin' to your doorstep?"

"Trust me, I haven't a clue. But honestly, at this point, I couldn't care less."

"Well, at least he's got his marbles back in order. It feels like a great stone's been lifted off my chest, if I'm being honest."

"I'm sorry for worrying you so much."

"Don't give it another thought, Shortcake. Not like you went looking for all that rubbish to begin with."

After turning off the water and drying your hands, you returned to the living room. "I honestly don't know what I would have done these past few weeks without you."

"Listen love, you can always count on me, yeah? No questions needed."

Lying on the couch, you grimaced faintly. "I know. I'm incredibly grateful to have you in my life."

“I heard that.”

"Hmm? Heard what?"

"You're not feeling well again, are you? That little noise you made there, clear as day."

Stroking your stomach, you let out a wry laugh. "I've felt dreadful ever since I came back. I suspect it's my little one making her displeasure known."

"I have no clue how all this dream business works, but couldn't you have stayed with him for a bit longer?"

"Oh, he wanted me to. In fact, he asked me to stay until the baby is due."

"And you went and turned him down? That's a bit of a bold move."

You laughed. "Despite his brooding, he was quite understanding. Even though I could stay there without time affecting our world much, I can't just return with a newborn out of thin air. Besides, I have work to accomplish here and now. He accepted to let me get my stuff in order back home, at least for today."

"Right then, makes sense. Though I'll admit, I’m a bit surprised he didn't put up more of a fuss, knowing him as I do."

"He's changed, Hob. He's truly giving it his all."

“I can see that.”

"It would be in your best interest, and that of our child, to remain here in The Dreaming. I am... concerned for your wellbeing."

"Morpheus, you know I love being here with you, but I have responsibilities in the Waking World."

Though expected, your answer still made him frown. "As you know, the rules of time and space bend differently here in my domain. You need not sacrifice your mortal obligations."

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips as you fixed the collar of his coat, brushing your nose against his cheek. "I know, but how would I explain the baby to anyone else? Using a cryptic pregnancy excuse isn't a solution."

You could see the disappointment forming on his face, his typical moping cat look returning.

"Okay, listen," you said, taking his hands in yours. "I love that you want to be there for me throughout the entire pregnancy, it means more to me than words can express. You and the Dreaming are my home now, that cannot be denied.”

"I fear your mind is made up on this matter."

"It is, but I want you to be part of this journey. You're the father, I would never exclude you."

After a thoughtful pause, Morpheus relented. "Very well. But I propose a compromise, my love."

"What kind of compromise?"

"I would ask two things of you: that you allow Matthew to watch over you when I cannot be present... and that you return to me each night in The Dreaming. Not in slumber, but in your conscious form."

You nodded. "That sounds reasonable. But I can't travel between realms on my own. Are you suggesting you'll come fetch me yourself?"

“Yes.”

Your eyes grew wide with astonishment. "You would do that? Come for me every single day? Accompany me back and forth when I have work and commitments?"

"Such a simple task means nothing. I would traverse the very fabric of existence for you."

"You're sweet, but I would never want to take you away from the Dreaming. I know there's still so much to rebuild after all that happened."

Like you, Morpheus proved to be equally stubborn. "You need not concern yourself with that. I simply wish for you to live the life you choose, both in the Waking World and here, with me."

"Even if that means dividing your time between realms?"

"Time spent in your presence is never wasted, my love."

You kissed him, nearly mimicking Ella's happy dance while restraining your elation, clinging to his shoulders as joy sparkled in your eyes. Still, Morpheus' satisfaction shone through in his smile, holding you in place.

"Then, my King, I’d say we have an agreement."

He drew you closer by your waist, his spirit visibly brightening. "Excellent."

"Oi, love? You still with me?"

"Ah, yes, sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment."

"Right then, gonna let you get some rest now. Give me a shout if you need anything, yeah?"

You stretched out on the couch, gently rotating your ankles. "Of course, thank you so much, Hob."

“Oh, and Y/N…. I meant to ask….”

“Yes?”

"Have you run into any other odd characters lately? Besides all them supernatural beings you've been telling me about."

You rubbed your chin pensively. "Odd? Well, I've seen plenty of weird things, but nothing particularly unusual comes to mind. Why do you ask?"

"Ah, well..."

You waited patiently as he hesitated before continuing, his response coming as a rushed and obviously dishonest explanation. "Nevermind then. Just me rambling on like a right old fool."

"Wait, what—?"

"I'll be checking up on you soon."

The call ended abruptly before you could inquire further, leaving you contemplating his unexpected behavior. His tone had carried a distinct note of concern - something that, given your recent experiences, warranted further investigation.

You started browsing through TV programs to occupy your evening, barely paying attention to what was playing on the screen. The more you contemplated the situation, the more questions arose about the implications of Hob’s allusion.

You sat up straight, the movie in the background now forgotten. "That was peculiarly strange, even for him."

To complicate matters even more, the next workday began with quite an unexpected turn of events.

You had just settled at your desk and powered up your equipment, preparing the day's schedule and upcoming executive briefing when a sudden commotion disrupted the studio's serene atmosphere. A sharp cry was followed by the forceful closing of a door, echoing through the corridor and making your skin crawl. Upon investigating, you observed several colleagues congregating near the restroom entrance, worriedly looking at the scene before them.

Confused, you tentatively approached the assembly, Oliver's voice rising above the hushed whispers. "Ella, sweetheart. Please, let's talk about this."

Amanda was standing behind the CEO with a brewed cup of coffee in her hand. As you moved beside her, you asked, "What's happening here, Amy? Is Ella all right?"

The woman sighed, shaking her head. "I have no clue. She just bolted to the bathroom like lightning, and I'm pretty sure she was crying. What on earth could be wrong this early in the morning?"

Oliver continued to knock, but no reply came from the other side. "Ella, I know this is difficult, but please. Don't shut me out."

As the tension in the area visibly escalated, Amanda intervened with a rough throat-clearing sound. "Everyone, let's give them some space, shall we?" She prompted the group to disperse, making sweeping motions as if creating an invisible shield around the CEO. "This isn't something we should eavesdrop on. Come on, back to work."

Although they all seemed deeply concerned about Ella's state of mind, after exchanging a few silent glances, they eventually returned to their respective posts, with only Freya staying behind. She was visibly distressed, letting out a deep breath as she gave your wrist a light squeeze. "Please keep me updated, and don't hesitate to call if you guys need anything."

You nodded firmly, watching her walk away with increasing apprehension. Meanwhile, Oliver sighed in frustration, resting his forehead against the door in complete resignation, his fist bumping softly upon the wooden surface.

Amy gave your shoulder an encouraging pat and smiled warmly before taking her leave, the coffee now cold, her typically sophisticated poise evident as she departed. The moment felt ominous, leaving you uncertain whether to intervene.

Taking a deep breath, you reached out, brushing your hand over Oliver's elbow, cocking your head questioningly. "Oliver? Maybe this is none of my business, but... what's going on?"

He closed his eyes, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was hoping for a different outcome."

"I don't understand."

"She... she received some bad results, Y/N."

"Bad results?"

"Wait, she didn't tell you?"

"She hasn't mentioned any of this to me. Medical results? Is that what you're referring to?"

He paced anxiously back and forth, massaging the back of his neck. "We’ve been trying for so long to…" He faltered, his words trailing away into stillness.

"I had no idea she was sick. Is this serious?"

"It’s not physically dangerous for her, but... emotionally, that's another matter entirely. She had such high hopes, we both did. I just don't know what to do now."

You rubbed your temple. "I'm a bit confused."

"Y/N, I hate to put this on you, but I could really use your help. You're the only one I can turn to."

"What can I do?"

He swiveled toward the door, his eyes red and distraught. "I think I’m the last person she wants to see at the moment. Perhaps she'll listen if you talk to her."

“I can try.”

Oliver stepped aside, muttering a "thank you," and allowed you to take his place by the door. His breathing was unsteady as you gently knocked several times, the bathroom remaining silent, with no word spoken from inside.

After a brief pause, you announced your presence, calling your friend quietly. "Ella? It's me. May I come in?"

You listened at the entrance, catching the faint sound of footsteps on the other side. When you heard the lock click, careful to keep the hallway hidden from view, you exchanged a knowing look with Oliver, which he answered with a tight smile. Ella didn't appear, but her gesture came as an invitation, meant only for you to take.

You stepped into the restroom, securing the door behind you. Ella stood hunched over one of the sinks, her blonde hair falling forward to obscure her face as soft sobs escaped her lips.

Your heart ached with compassion as you placed a gentle hand on her back. "Ella, please tell me what this is about."

"He didn't say anything?" she asked, sniffling.

"No. I think he wanted you to tell me yourself."

She shook her head vigorously, tears streaming down her face. "I shouldn't be telling you this, not now."

"Why not? If you're worried I'll panic at the news, please don't be. Whatever it is, I'll need to face it eventually, and I refuse to let you go through this alone."

The more she tried to speak, the more her desperation took over. "No, it's not that. I know how you are, I don't want you feeling guilty about my situation."

"Guilty? Why?"

"Because you always put others before yourself. I can’t ruin your happiness."

You turned her to face you, brushing the unkempt hair aside, her eyes now rimmed with smudged mascara. "Stop. Just tell me already."

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "I'm your boss, remember? You don't get to give me orders."

"We stopped being boss and employee the moment I walked through that door. Think of it like we're back in secondary school, hiding in the bathroom and crying over our problems."

She hiccupped, pressing her hand to her mouth. "Sometimes I wish we could just go back to those days. It seemed so much easier then, when all we had to worry about was which dress to buy or how awful our dates happened to be."

You chuckled, rubbing her shoulders in a soothing motion. "Come on, tell me what's wrong."

She looked at you with trembling lips, fresh tears welling up in the corners of her eyes and spilling down her cheeks in rivulets. "Promise me you won't start blaming yourself."

"I don't even know what you think I should feel guilty about."

"Fine, okay." She inhaled shakily, her nails absently scratching at her hand. "Oliver and I... we've been trying to have a baby for quite some time now. It just hasn't worked."

Oh.

"At first, I thought it was low probability, bad luck or incorrect hormone calculations. But after a while, we suspected something wasn't right."

The realization struck you like a thunderbolt, draining all color from your face.

"Oh, for heaven's sake! See? I knew you'd react this way!"

"I didn’t say anything," you protested.

"That's not necessary, your face says it all. Y/N, I really can't handle this right now."

"Okay okay, I’m sorry. So you underwent medical tests," you concluded. "And received the results today?"

She grimaced as all her attempts to contain herself proved futile. "I'm not physically able to have children. I don't really understand all the terminology in these tests, but… all I know is that my body is broken, and I can't get pregnant, Y/N. Not now, probably not ever."

The breath rushed from your lungs, rendering you paralyzed on the spot. "Please don't say that. You're not broken."

"No? Then what am I? I just wanted to have a family with the man I love. To give Oliver the child he's always wanted. What's left for us now? What am I supposed to offer him?"

"Your heart, Ella. He married you because he loves you for who you are, not because he saw you as a means to have children."

She let out a bitter laugh. "But that's also why he married me! We talked about this years ago. We both wanted the same future; to settle down, have kids, build our family together alongside our business. And now it's just us, with no hope of growing larger. Because I'm bloody defective."

"Stop it, you're not some malfunctioning machine. And regardless of what these test results say, you can't give up hope like this."

She crumpled against the wall, crouching down. "What do you suggest then? That I keep deceiving myself? Pretend the problem isn't there?"

You knelt before her, taking her hands in a firm grip. "No, but many women have conceived even when doctors said they couldn't. There are countless stories like this, Ella. Medical conditions can be unpredictable. Just because you can't become a mother right now doesn't mean it's impossible forever."

"You didn't even see the results."

"I don't need to."

She scoffed. "This isn't the time to make light of your ‘gut feeling’ again."

"When have I ever joked about it? After everything you've witnessed, do you really think I'm making fun of you about something this dire?"

She pondered your words, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.

"Ella, I've learned so much this year. I've experienced things beyond what anyone would believe possible, and I fell in love in the most unconventional way, with someone who makes every single day of my life a wonder. Literally."

Her eyes and nose were an angry red. "I know you're experiencing things beyond my understanding, and I'm happy for you. But I'm not like you—I'm just ordinary. My life is mundane, filled with daily struggles."

"And you think mine isn't? There might be some magic in my life, but it's not as if everything automatically transforms into sunshine and butterflies. A car nearly hit me head-on a few nights ago, and that could have cost me more than I dare to think about."

Her eyes widened in shock, her back straightening. "Wait, what??"

Gently easing her back down to a seated position, you steered the conversation back to its original focus, not wanting to derail the matter at hand with tales of your own mishaps. "The bottom line is, life is a rollercoaster, Ella. Sometimes we rise, sometimes we fall, but we always find our way back up again."

"What if I truly can't have children? What then?”

"There are different paths you can explore."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I know we could adopt, but I really want to have Oliver's baby. Does that make me selfish?"

"No, it only makes you human. And as such, you feel."

When her gaze lifted, transfixed and solemn as she peered into your eyes with rapt attention, her fingers lay still against her thighs. She was perfectly motionless, absorbing every word with an almost trance-like focus.

"Here you were, suffering in silence, yet you still managed to be genuinely excited about my pregnancy."

"Of course I did. I am happy for you, truly… I only wish I could share it with you. How wonderful would that be, going through such a miracle together, watching our children become best friends?"

Rising to your feet, you assisted Ella to a standing position as she regained her precarious balance. You proceeded to dampen a cloth and cleanse her face, carefully removing the traces of mascara before they set. "Now, that would be such a wonderful dream, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," she replied, her eyes still set on your face. "It would be one hell of a legacy."

"Like I said, don't let these test results define your future. Do more checks if necessary. Keep trying. Be the same, exceptional woman that I always admired, the one Oliver is so desperately waiting for outside."

Gradually, her composure returned as the tears subsided and her trembling ceased. She regained her professional posture, examining herself in the mirror while smoothing her hair and adjusting her suit with practiced precision.

"Then I suppose I should give it my all, right?"

"That's exactly what I want to hear. Go to your husband, talk to him. We'll keep producing, creating, and transforming; the fashion world as much as our own lives. Keep your head high and stay confident that everything you wish for will find its way to you."

Finally, a wide grin spread across her lips, contrasting sharply with her earlier despair. "When did we switch roles? You’ve become so wise I can barely recognize you. Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?"

"I told you. Everything changed for me last summer."

"Well then. If I ever meet your boyfriend again, I'd love to shake his hand."

Smoothing her attire, she strode toward the exit, her stilettos clicking crisply against the porcelain tiles. As she disengaged the latch and the barrier swung ajar, she paused mid-step, then gracefully rotated to face you one final instance. Her visage reflected tranquility and wonderment, blending into an expression you'd never previously witnessed.

"By the way, Y/N…"

"Hmm?"

She took a measured breath, collecting her thoughts before speaking. "Do you know that you're literally glowing?"

Your brows knitted together in confusion. "Glowing?"

Ella said nothing more, only held her smile as she left you alone in the restroom, the voices outside now muffled by the door. Frozen in place, you glanced down at your hands, observing that the familiar golden luminescence had returned once again. Your skin emanated a radiance reminiscent of candlelight, as glowing streams of energy permeated through the fabric of your shirt.

Then you caught sight of it in your reflection—a spark in your eyes that made you jump in shock. Mouth agape, you blinked several times hoping to see it disappear, shaking your hands as you frantically tried to will the power away.

"No, no, no, no, this can't be happening now. Not here."

You turned your palms upward and applied cold water, waiting for it to take effect. The light began to fade, dissipating like liquid along your skin. Unfortunately, your irises retained their glow, and as you studied them in the mirror, you noticed how they seemed to dance and shift, creating an overlay of color that moved in perfect synchronization with your eye structure.

It took you a good half an hour for them to readjust, the light slowly retracting and melting like glitters scattered in the wind, leaving no trace of its supernatural display.

Throughout the entire workday, you had been more than just on edge; you were practically vibrating with terror. Despite your nerves, the executive briefing proved remarkably productive, and the fact that you managed to remain seemingly calm during the presentation was nothing short of miraculous.

In truth, you feared your awakened abilities would suddenly unlock themselves anew during the meeting, causing you to light up like a human LED in front of the attendees. Fortunately, your physical appearance remained stable with no visible changes, allowing you to keep a properly collected facade.

Ella remained discreet, sending occasional smiles your way. You noticed her and Oliver sharing private conversations during their breaks, exchanging soft touches, loving glances, and brief kisses. Wanting to give them space, you quietly slipped out of the studio at the end of your shift, making your way down the street and across the park.

The breeze ruffled your hair as you breathed in the fragrant scents of nature, reflecting on the day's events and all they entailed. Though you had tried to be supportive in the restroom, Ella's revelation now weighed heavily on your mind, and you deeply regretted sharing your embryo scan. It was difficult to witness her struggling with infertility while your own pregnancy had occurred spontaneously and unexpectedly, without any prior intention or preparation. Her genuine smile and enthusiastic celebration of the news, with that glint of happiness in her eyes, showed what a truly extraordinary person she was.

And in turn, the mere thought left you feeling utterly wretched.

As you rummaged through your bag for your phone, a golden spark emanated from your fingertips and struck the inside, causing it to glimmer momentarily. You stopped walking, raising your hand to observe as the glow rapidly spread from your nails, illuminating your entire palm to your wrist.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

As passersby walked along the treated path, you tucked your hand into your jacket and kept your head low, feeling a strange warmth forming in your eyes again. You ran aimlessly through the park, not watching where you were going, taking random turns down the most deserted walkways you could find. You were distancing yourself quite considerably from the underground station, but with your current condition, being surrounded by rush hour crowds seemed ill-advised.

In the distance, a child pointed toward you as you rushed past, trying to get his mother's attention, who was thankfully absorbed in her phone conversation and failed to notice your hurried form. Your hand tightened into a fist, and the trapped light shone through your jacket, making the fabric appear see-through.

You quickened your pace, desperate to find somewhere to hide, when you nearly collided with someone who had just blocked the way. You were about to stammer an apology and rush past, but then a voice—the most soothing, grounding voice—spoke your name like a balm.

Morpheus.

Your eyes met as he studied you intently, his hands tucked in the pockets of his Waking World attire, his cerulean gaze shifting from your hidden fist to the golden ring in your irises.

“My love.”

Finally pulling your hand free, you extended it toward him with a pleading look. Appearing lost, scared, and confused, your voice cracked with insecurity. "What should I do?"

Without second thought, Morpheus silently took your hand, bringing it to his lips as they brushed against your luminous knuckles. You stared, barely blinking, his presence alone calming your nervousness; the way he brought your hand to his face, guiding it to rest against his cheek, was more comforting and invigorating than any spoken reassurance.

Then your surroundings began to shift. The lush greenery of the park dissolving into opalescent walls and columns, the atmosphere dimming to reveal candlelight dancing through colored glass windows. The soil beneath your feet transformed into marble, while the fresh scent of leaves and resin gave way to mineral undertones, crisp ozone, and the rich fragrances of sandalwood, myrrh, and black amber.

You sighed in relief, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone, as golden filaments floated in the air before erupting into a glittering cloud. The light in your hand dimmed to nothing, leaving your skin with its natural hue.

Just like that, the phenomenon vanished for the second time.

"This could have gone terribly wrong," you said with a wry chuckle. "Thank you for finding me."

"I sensed your anguish rippling through the Dreaming, my love. Your essence called to me across the realms."

"I started glowing like a lamp right in front of my friend at work today, and I'm fortunate it was her who witnessed it rather than someone else. I have no idea what's happening."

"Your light grows, it flows through you now like sand through an hourglass. Though untamed at present, with time and patience, you will learn to bend it to your will."

"What if I cannot control it?"

"The question is not whether you can control it, but how magnificently you shall wield it."

Exhausted, you rested your head against his shoulder, savoring the comfort of his vicinity. "Unlike you, I'm not accustomed to being magical, Morpheus."

"You have always possessed this power within yourself. Your emotions give it strength, and here, in my realm, you may find peace while mastering it."

"Right," you said pensively. "I doubt I could do it in the Waking World. The last thing I need is to accidentally fry all my appliances. Or worse, bring down the entire building."

"I will teach you to harness this power, but for that, you must remain here, in the Dreaming."

"I can't risk becoming a freak show in the Waking World, so… I’ll stay."

You could sense his exultation, almost imperceptible, as his arms tightened around you. "Then, let me guide you through this. Allow me to remain at your side, for as long as you need."

You smiled contentedly as his fingers threaded through your hair, his deep voice a melodic rumble against your ear as you wrapped your arms around his torso. "If you think I'll ever stop needing you, you are deeply mistaken."

The waterfall in Fiddler's Green created a mesmerizing sensory backdrop, your eyes drifting shut as the gentle breeze of the Dreaming whispered across your features and danced through your clothes. Your hands were lifted before you, palms upturned, a frown creasing your forehead.

You grunted, letting your arms drop to your sides. "This is ridiculous. Why does it only come to me when I don't need it, but never when I want it?"

"Such mastery requires time," Morpheus intoned. "Your light moves in synchronicity with your soul."

"I don't know... I've been trying for two hours straight, and I haven't seen even a single spark."

He took a step forward, taking hold of your hands. "My love, do not strain against it. Let it flow as water finds its path, and it will come to you."

You sighed. "It's just... I'm afraid I might accidentally hurt someone, even you."

"Your light flows from a place of love. It cannot bring harm."

"It may be innocuous now, but you mentioned it's growing stronger. And if I can't even make it appear at will, what's going to happen the next time my eyes light up?"

Morpheus' thumbs gently traced the insides of your wrists, anchoring you to the present moment. "Y/N, you will not hurt anyone, so long as your heart remains aligned with compassion. That is your core, my love. It is your truth."

"And if that’s not enough? I don’t come from power. I wasn’t born to rule anything."

"No," he agreed, eyes deep and glinting like pale blue galaxies. "Not to rule, but to change."

You blinked at him, your breath catching as his palm descended to rest against your sternum.

"Your light did not awaken because of error, but because you love, fiercely and selflessly. Do not seek control through fear."

"How should I do it?"

"Close your eyes."

You lowered your eyelids, obedient to his request.

"Now… breathe. Remember the first time you felt it stir."

You recalled the first awakening, occurring in the midst of your separation from the Dream Lord. As Astra began to deteriorate and fade from the Dreaming, the prospect of losing him��as you had lost the one you loved—paired with witnessing the realm's potential collapse, had made your heart clench with unbearable sorrow.

Morpheus leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours. "There. Do you feel it, my love?”

"Yes..."

It had come during various significant moments: while immersed in the ocean of your private land, and when restoring vitality to Morpheus' mighty creation reduced to dried, rotten scales due to the Endless’ despair. Through this mystical energy, you forged an inexplicable bond with the ancient Book of Paradoxes, revealing transformative wisdom that paved the path to your destined reunion.

But your memory dug deeper, back in time and to that distant day in the basement, when your hand touched Morpheus' through the glass; so close yet so far apart. You had felt it even then, the same warmth expanding through your limbs, permeating your body with liquid gold. It wasn't just a visualization, a metaphor, or a feeling... it was, as you now realized, something far more powerful and significant.

Your eyes pressed tightly shut, golden light blooming from your fingertips at last, soft and pure, spiraling like threads. It wrapped around your joined hands in powerful swirls, your chest lighting up at heart level, where his hand connected with it.

You could see the bright glow expanding. You gasped, eyes flying open. "It worked..."

Morpheus grinned, prideful and ecstatic. "As I knew it would."

The moment he stepped back, you raised your arms with flowing elegance. The light responded to your mental commands, streaming naturally with your movements. It merged seamlessly with your golden bracelets, causing the metal to radiate with an intensity rivaling daylight. 

Little by little, the glow dissipated, leaving behind tiny sparkles that settled onto the grass, making it rustle in the wind that formed. 

"Your emotions... they are what fuels your light, what gives it power," he explained. "When in doubt, your heart holds the answer."

"Or I can simply think of you, and that will calm everything down," you said with a smile.

He approached again, reaching for your abdomen, where your Little Star was peacefully developing under his amiable care. "Or perhaps that, if you wish."

With an overjoyed squeal, you leapt into his arms, wrapping yourself around him like a vine.

With consistent practice and Morpheus' expert guidance, mastering control over your light became increasingly effortless, though occasional spontaneous outbursts and persistent illumination still occurred on their own. The Dreaming's influence had the power to pacify your nerves, its restorative energy recharging your spirit. Time seemed to move at a languid pace, with both day and night taking on the uncanny quality of a waking dream. 

The denizens of the realm were all taking a liking to your physical presence among them, Abel and Cain being particularly overjoyed at the news of your pregnancy. They were elated, vying with one another to shower you with attention and provide you and your unborn child with every imaginable luxury. Their smiles were infectious, as they presented wonderful blends of aromatic tea alongside homemade confections that surpassed any earthly bakery's creations.

Although the Lord of Dreams had previously fathered the ill-fated Orpheus, his son's demigod heritage and mortal upbringing in the Waking World with Calliope meant he never truly inhabited the realm of dreams. Thus, your child, being innately connected to the Dreaming itself, represented an unprecedented and outstanding addition to the domain. Despite being merely a tiny speck of life in your womb, your daughter was already the talk of the dream folk, who considered he a harbinger of renewal and abundance for their world.

In addition to your light training sessions, Morpheus dedicated considerable time to enriching your stay in the Dreaming and making each moment unforgettable. During one such occasion, he led you through unexplored regions of the Palace; a labyrinth of chambers, curated to reflect your personal aesthetic and interests. Every alcove, window seat, and reading nook bore your distinctive imprint, from the arrangement of cushions to the carefully selected books, as though the castle itself had anticipated your arrival and morphed itself accordingly. 

The two of you approached an enigmatic entryway that commanded attention, with a majestic door whose towering frame was beautifully carved and decorated with intricate celestial etchings. Golden patterns were covering the surface, reminiscent of swirling cosmic nebulae that danced over the ornate woodwork. 

With a regal gesture, Morpheus beckoned you to cross its threshold. "I want you to find your place here. To have a sanctuary made from dreams, where fragments of the Waking World may take root."

Curious, you ventured into the room, your senses overwhelmed by the bright sunlight that filtered through the windows, bathing the space in a welcoming embrace. As your eyes adjusted, you were immediately awestruck by its contents and design, leaving you breathless and incredulous at the amount of detail and consideration that clearly went into its forging. 

The room had been neatly arranged into a sophisticated atelier, rivaling any high-end fashion studio in the mortal dimension. An array of elegant bust mannequins stood at attention, while a pristine canvas awaited on a wooden easel. The main workstation displayed an impressive collection of fabrics in unique colors and textures, complemented by an assortment of precious gemstones and professional tools, all carefully curated for your artistic endeavors.  

"Morpheus, I..." You stammered.  "This is..."

"I understand how important your craft is to you, my love. I wish for you to continue creating, even here, in my realm. Your visions will take shape, and your creativity shall know no bounds."

"I'm at a loss for words. You've given me so much... I don't deserve all this."

His smile had become a near-permanent fixture, rarely fading from his face since you arrived.

"You deserve the universe, my heart. And everything the cosmos has to offer."

"I can barely speak, I... I don't know how to thank you."

"Your happiness is all I require."

Running your fingers across the fabrics displayed on the table, you marveled at their unprecedented quality and softness. Your attention was drawn to an elegantly bound leather notebook positioned discreetly in the corner, its pristine pages awaiting your artistic inspiration.

"Can I really have this room for myself?"

"Everything here belongs to you, and you alone," he reassured in his silken timbre. "Whatever rooms you want, I will create them for you."

Turning to face him, you moved forward with weightless grace, your embroidered dress trailing behind you like a royal gown. "What more could I possibly wish for? Right now, I'd rather have a kiss from my King."

"As many kisses as you wish."

"Don't tempt me like that."

Your lips met his as you emitted a sultry hum, your hands cradling his face on either side. The room filled with the soft echoes of your mouths as a flock of iridescent butterflies drifted through the open windows, their delicate wings catching the light. One butterfly alighted in your hair, transforming into an elegant crystal hairpin that secured a loose strand behind your ear. Another alighted upon your neck, its wings elongating into delicate ribbons that formed an intricate lace choker.

Before you could voice your question, Morpheus answered in advance. "This is a demonstration of what the Dreaming can give you. The realm itself shall be your canvas, transforming your imagination into reality."

You stared at the butterflies with wonderment as they painted a magical path toward the desk. Leaning in, you touched one with your fingertips, causing the delicate creature to pirouette graciously before landing upon your fingertip, its gossamer legs delicately encircling your skin in a sweet embrace. The wings changed colors in a repeated gradient sequence, rippling across the beautiful membranes.

An unbridled grin lit up your countenance with unrestrained delight. "You know, I was thinking—" you rotated on your heels, hand resting on your abdomen. "—our little one will absolutely love playing here. The Dreaming is truly the most breathtaking playground any child could wish for. And she’s lucky enough to be your daughter."

"It is I who am honored to be the father of this child. She is yours... and mine. The Dreaming is forever changed by her coming."

You kissed his cheek, the butterfly hairpin in your hair scattering rainbows throughout the room, reflections bathing every wall.

In that precious instant, Morpheus moved beyond his mantle as Master of Stories, embodying the dual essence of father and partner, experiencing a sense of wholeness he had never known before—that he had always kept at bay, his pride standing as an obstacle.

And now, those walls had fallen away. For you had become his exception.

Frantic footsteps resounded through the marble hall of the ancient temple. The sky was so bright it needed no sun, its luminosity enveloping the towering structure in natural bloom. Green trees and waterfalls created a paradise-like setting, yet despite this spectacular, mystical vista, Paregoros' mood remained as dark as the blackest night, as barren as the driest desert.

"Wait!"

She stopped abruptly, rolling her eyes, her entire posture exuding irritation. "Don't even try, Damaris."

Damaris sighed, gathering her dress as she descended the stairs. "Look, I understand your perspective."

"Do you? Because from what I recall, you were quite adamant about having her banished."

"We didn't banish her," she pointed out, coming to a stop in front of her. "You know the rules. There was no sign of power in her then, she was just a normal child."

"And now that things have changed, you conveniently want her back? She has built a life for herself in the Waking World. And even beyond it."

Damaris shrugged dismissively. "There was no possible way to foresee this. And besides, you've always distrusted the Endless."

Her voice thundered. "This isn't about Dream, it's about my daughter! I wasn't allowed anywhere near her or the man I loved. You forfeited any right to reclaim her when you left her in the Waking World."

"First of all, you made your choice fully aware of the consequences," Damaris said coldly. "You conceived a child with a mortal man even though you knew it was forbidden. I act not on my own accord, but at the will of the High Matrons. And they wish only to guide her, to nurture what she has become."

"Of course they do," Paregoros replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You're expecting the impossible. There's so much more at stake here: her career, her father, her friendships."

"I know we cannot take her against her will, but she still has the chance to make this right."

"You believe she should abandon everything she loves, kneel at your feet and birth a legacy for your ends rather than hers."

"We act in accordance with the laws of divine balance. She is a beacon. Beacons do not belong in shadows."

"Yes. Indeed, they belong to no one—not even you."

Damaris scoffed. "I don't have to tell you what could happen if she stays with him. He was a father once, and look what happened to Calliope’s boy."

Paregoros winced, looking away.

"Do you truly want your daughter to suffer the same fate as her?"

"My daughter is her own person, and though I once had reservations about him, I cannot deny that he has changed."

"Ha! Changed? Oneiros? Don't be absurd. Someone like him is incapable of change. Your daughter possesses something unique, Paregoros. And this child she carries… it's a child of light. We must protect it from Dream's corrupting influence."

"ENOUGH!"

Damaris jolted backward, her eyes wide as saucers.

Paregoros heaved with rage, her eyebrows drawn so tightly together they narrowed her eyes to slits. "I have caused my daughter enough suffering. I would never ask her to endure the same fate I was made to accept, not that I would succeed even if I tried. "

"But it would be different for her, wouldn't it? Unlike you, she would have both her child and her mother by her side. We will present her with this choice regardless of what you wish for, but you could make the process far easier. Need I remind you that you visited her of your own accord when you were meant to keep your distance?"

"Say what you will, I'm washing my hands of this."

Damaris pursed her lips in evident disappointment. "You would rather have her stay in the Dreaming, with a being shaped by solitude and duty? A king who brings storms even in his rare moments of weakness?"

"He has held her when her light faltered, bringing her more joy than she has ever known. Oneiros earned the trust you now seek to barter away.

Damaris pressed her palm against her forehead in exasperation. "Do you even hear yourself? You speak of him with fondness after all his past actions, those horrendous deeds you once condemned. You were the one who didn't want him anywhere near your daughter, were you not? One misstep from him, and she will pay the price. As will the child."

"I don't expect you to understand. Unlike me, you've never been a mother, Damaris." Paregoros folded her arms across her chest, her eyes watering as old memories surfaced. "Seeing Y/N grow up without me was like burning in Hell. I wouldn't wish that on anyone… not even Oneiros or Lucifer themselves.”

"Sentimental as always, but that has already been your downfall once. Compassion or otherwise, it seems your very purpose blinds you to reason."

Paregoros released a mocking laugh. "Compassion doesn’t make me blind; it makes me just. We are concepts that predate language and art. I exist as an amplifier of Aphrodite's and Peitho's gifts, awakening when love is wounded or trust stands on the brink. Power is not something we seek, it is granted when needed."

"Yes, and such power is not his to keep."

"How can you be so insensitive? He remains the father. He would never allow you to keep the child sealed away from his realm."

"Even he must recognize his boundaries within the greater order of things."

"Ah, of course. Everything comes down to rules and order with you. Best of luck with that."

Damaris clicked her tongue. "You know as well as I do. He claimed to love Calliope, but his own pride mattered more than she ever did. And let's not forget how uninvolved he was in Orpheus' life. Or Death. Or in that place in between... whatever remains of him. What makes you think it will be any different with your daughter and grandchild?"

"If he truly didn't care, he would never have returned to her. As for my daughter, she made a conscious choice that requires respect."

"Please. She's merely indulging in her little human crush on a godly being. It must be that charm of darkness that so many mortals seem drawn to nowadays."

Damaris' words dripped like poison, the cruel curve of her lips causing the Daemona to clench her hands into fists, indignation flaring in her expression with renewed ferocity. "How dare you?"

Damaris dramatically responded with a wave of her hand. "Come now, I meant no offense."

"No?"

“I just—”

"You criticize her humanity, yet you seek to confine her power solely to our realm. If you believe my daughter can be swayed from her principles and convictions, that she'll abandon him and take their child away, you're going to hit a brick wall."

Damaris averted her gaze, looking offended. "She was born here. Why should she not return to where she originates from?"

But Paregoros pressed on, her voice sharp with insistence. "Because she's not some tool for you to manipulate. You sent her away at birth for lacking divine power, and now she's transformed into something entirely new. Something unprecedented, beyond any of our understanding."

"That is precisely why we cannot let Oneiros exploit such power."

Paregoros smiled icily, her eyes devoid of compassion for the first time in her eternal existence. "Because you wish to exploit it yourselves, do you not?"

"You—!"

"Fortunately, my daughter has enough wisdom to make her own good decisions, and that won't sit well with you at all."

Her arms fell to her sides as she turned, departing without a backward glance, leaving Damaris behind in her own simmering disdain.

"If you do not intervene, then we must, for their sake."

Though the Envoy remained stationary, her final question could be heard across the widening distance, her voice rising in pitch.

"Would you accept it if she chose the Endless over us? The Dreaming, over Klyseidos?"

Paregoros strode onward, replying with a sardonic gesture. "She already did, Damaris. I'll have to live with it, as will you. Unless, of course, you wish to disrupt the boundaries within the greater order of things yourself."

"And what if she falls?"

"She will rise anew. She always has."

She trotted away with composed dignity, her footsteps resonating through the temple as she made her way through the main entrance and down the road, her jaw held tight as her ire hung in the salty air.

Transitioning back to the Waking World proved to be a strong adjustment, as you wove your mundane existence back into your everyday life. Everything you had learned in the Dreaming's confines had proven invaluable, as your light stayed carefully contained, reappearing only in moments of complete seclusion rather than spilling forth unbidden in the presence of others. Mastering the equilibrium of this newfound capability was still a formidable challenge, but your proficiency in preventing spontaneous illumination at unwanted moments marked undeniable progress in your journey of self-control.

Ella hadn’t mentioned the incident at all, interacting with you as naturally as a spring breeze. You recognized her diplomatic tactfulness, as she was undoubtedly biding her time with characteristic patience, waiting for the perfect occasion to broach the subject. You acknowledged the futility of fabricating pretenses, knowing you had to resort to authenticity.

During your nocturnal sojourn into the dream realm, you encountered Astra in front of an immaculate, crystalline lake nestled within the forest. The creature acknowledged your presence with a welcoming smile, his dark eyes twinkling, while his lustrous coat resembled the finest velvet spun from moonbeams.

"I find you well, Y/N. Finally, we can all breathe a sigh of relief, yes?"

"You can definitely say that again. How is the Dreaming faring?"

"Some areas still show damage from the Vortex’s influence, and well... Lord Morpheus wasn't exactly in the right state to repair them. But I'd say things are returning to their proper order now."

Your lips curved into a serene smile as you acknowledged his words with a graceful inclination of your head. "I suppose it takes time, even for him. Still, the Dreaming feels quite different these days."

"Thanks to a certain someone, I dare say."

"I wouldn't give myself that much credit."

"That's the thing about you; you don't have to try. You complement the Dreaming, us, just as perfectly as you complement him."

Validating Astra's observation, a gentle zephyr wafted through the area, carrying with it an intoxicating fusion of night-blooming flora and amber notes, the aromatic symphony dancing upon the dreaming air. The familiar's face shone with a celestial warmth, suffused with a veneration that mirrored your own deep-seated devotion to him and the tapestry of the Dreaming realm.

"Would you like to walk with me, my lady?" he inquired.

You unfurled the diaphanous layers of your gown, letting the fabric cascade around you in waves as you bowed. "With pleasure."

The forest metamorphosed with each visit, displaying serpentine pathways and sprouting peculiar arbors. Astra's hooves produced melodious whispers against the ground as he accompanied you, while overhead, a spectacle of blue dream auroras painted the sky in waves of chromatic splendor.

"No matter how many times I explore this place, the Dreaming continues to amaze me. I imagine you never grow bored of living in such a wondrous domain."

"It certainly has its perks, being ever-changing."

"You never feel lonely, do you?"

"Not at all, I have plenty of friends here. Animals and creatures of all kinds, even the flowers. You'd be surprised how talkative they can be."

A melodious titter escaped your lips. "I don't think anything could surprise me anymore."

"Says the one who stares at everything with wonder."

"Can you blame me, though? The Waking World has its own little miracles and beauties, but I could never live a life like the one I experience here."

As you walked onward, an inexplicable chill enveloped your arms, while an enigmatic echo traversed among the canopy of leaves, its secrets lost to the winds.

"Did you hear that?"

"I hear many things," Astra said. "At times, you might hear fragments of conversations from other mortals' dreams. The realm never truly falls silent."

"Yes… of course. I might still be on edge after the whole ordeal with the Book of Paradoxes."

"Understandable. That was no trivial matter for any of us."

Desiccated foliage and gnarled twigs shattered under your footfalls, as a thin layer of vapor coiled sinuously along the forest's periphery. That voice returned once more, its ghostly melody moving nearer, threading through the branches until it coalesced into an unmistakable utterance of your name.

"It can't be just me, though, can it? Don't you feel like something is wrong?"

Before the familiar could respond to your inquiry, the fog expanded like a veil spread open, surrounding you at an alarming velocity. It enveloped you in its gelid embrace, bleaching your vision into alabaster nothingness. The ephemeral disturbance, fleeting as a moth's wingbeat, disappeared after a few blinks, yet when clarity returned, the terrain had subtly transformed - an uncanny shift that left the dreamscape feeling inexplicably altered.

"What just happened, Astra?"

An eerie disquietude permeated the atmosphere, casting forth an aura that felt unnatural, even by the standards of the Dreaming realm.

When only silence replied, you turned around. "Astra?"

Your friend had vanished into the haze, dissolved like morning dew, leaving only the faintest echo rebounding from an unfathomable distance. All that was left behind was a haunting emptiness and disquieting trepidation, as your hands instinctively sought refuge around your midsection, cradling the precious life that linked to the Dreaming's pulse.

"Astra!"

Summoning him proved fruitless, as an instinctive premonition told you that your solitary presence was ordained in this barren location, a territory whose nature diverged markedly from the well known imprint of Morpheus' craftsmanship.

“ʸ/ₙ…”

The earlier voice resonated again then, with amplified intensity and unmistakable clarity.

"Cₒₘₑ ₒᵥₑᵣ ₕₑᵣₑ."

After the cryptic tome had been sent into the void between dimensions, you had foolishly assumed that obscure calls would no longer plague your existence. Now, as this dream played like an ominous message from the unknown, your blood ran cold at the unsettling parallels.

Nevertheless, your legs began moving autonomously, guided by a force that pulled you beyond the woodland and brought you face-to-face with a liquid barrier; a vertical expanse of water that resembled a wide curtain made of frosty glass.

In bewilderment, you stared at how it defied gravity, like an ocean's surface standing upright instead of lying flat, stretching toward the sky. A continuous sheet of mist covered its highest reaches, as your reflection deformed in the moving waves in front of you.

Extending your hand toward the wall, you caressed the aqueous surface, feeling its gelatinous texture. With newfound courage, you pushed through the watery blockage to its opposite face, encountering only air—proof that it served as merely a thin partition separating the two places.

Your instincts were imploring you to flee, yet some magnetism anchored you in place. You took your hand out and it was immaculate, dried, with no sign of wetness or freezing. The barrier was neither tangible nor incorporeal, just an abstract construct similar to the ephemeral nature of dreams.

"When in doubt, your heart holds the answer."

With determined momentum, you propelled yourself through the barrier, sensing merely a subtle switch in your environment. Again, your form emerged completely untouched by moisture, and as you regained your posture to observe the translucent wall behind you, a golden radiance suddenly burst out from your palms. You made no attempt to repel it, following the trail it painted on the ground, your eyes scanning the enclosed sanctuary covered in lush greenery.

But your attention was immediately captured by the massive monolith ahead, emblazoned with an ancient glyph which triggered a flash of recent memory. Your heartbeat quickened as anxiety gripped your chest, head moving from side to side in denial.

Moving closer, your light started to fade, converging into an intricate sigil beneath the tome, one you could not recognize.

The tome bore no markings or identifying features to reveal its provenance. With hesitant trepidation, you reached for the cover's edge, and at the slightest contact, the book sprang open of its own accord.

The ordeal appeared to have concluded, yet Destiny unveiled another chapter that you were dreading to live through.

Just as terror began to seize your mind and constrict your slumbering breath, before you could turn and run away, a soft presence made itself known.

"Y/N, do not be afraid."

Your light formed a halo around the monolith, ascending from the ground and creating undefined shapes a few inches away from the massive rock. It was tethered to your outstretched palms suspended in the air, merging into what appeared to be a figure, partially diaphanous.

When the entity materialized completely, you scrutinized its form with mounting stupor. The spectral image, though devoid of distinguishing facial features, bore an uncanny and striking similitude to your physical appearance. You were gazing upon your own doppelganger made of golden light.

"Who... are you?"

Your double stepped forward, its featureless face somehow forming a smile. "I am you - the voice that’s been in your head since time immemorial. I am the whispers in your dreams, the intuition that moves you, your consciousness made real." Its voice was a thunderous symphony, each word in layered tones. "I am the force that flows through your veins, your primordial light, burning bright since the dawn of your creation."

"You... you are my light? You're actually alive?"

"Yes, in a sense. I can only communicate with you through your dreams. This is a sacred place that exists within yourself, one beyond even his reach."

"You mean Morpheus cannot find me here? But the Dreaming belongs to him, it's an extension of himself. There is no place he cannot see."

"Yes, but you are a Dreamwalker, Y/N. You can traverse where no other mortals dare, unlocking dreams that are not necessarily your own. And in doing so, you forge new ones."

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "I am a Dreamwalker?"

From ancient lore, you knew that Dreamwalkers were extraordinary souls blessed with the ability to traverse the dreamscape at will during their sleep, and in some special instances, could even breach the veil while conscious through spiritual practices like deep meditation, lucid awareness, or mystical artifacts. Unlike ordinary dreamers who moves aimlessly, a Dreamwalker has the gift to chart their course through the planes, treating the dream realm as intimately as their earthly dwelling.

"From your very first experience here, you navigated this realm without Morpheus aiding you. You discovered the gate, even the main hall of his ruined castle. You wandered freely through Abel's and Cain's territories, found your way into Lyta Hall's lost dream."

"I thought that was the Vortex's doing."

"A Vortex has the power to tear through the fabric of the Dreaming and merge separate dreams into one, but no. That was you."

With a deep breath, you turned your attention back to the glyph etched into the monolith. "What about this symbol, then? What does it mean?"

"This sigil serves as both a key and an anchor."

"What does it unlock?"

The luminous apparition tilted its visage, letting a soft quietude descend between the two of you.

"That is something you must discover when the time is right."

You let out an exasperated scoff. "Seriously? Can't anyone give me a straight answer for once? I'm tired of all these riddles!"

"This isn't a riddle, Y/N. This is your destined revelation."

"Right. What's the point of all this?"

The entity gestured at the marking, illuminating it with heightened vibrance. "You must memorize it. One day, you will need it."

"Why?"

"Because it represents what you are becoming."

"None of this makes sense."

"It will. When the hour folds, it will open. When the thread burns, it will seal. But not yet."

Your eyes blazed with incandescent fury and celestial wrath. "That’s it?"

You turned in a slow circle, your voice rising as irritation bubbled on your skin, the shadowy surroundings now bathed in the brightness of your magic. "Why must it be me? Why can't I just be normal?"

The light flickered. "You seek meaning, but you yourself are meaning."

"I don't even know who, or what, I am anymore."

"You are the question and the answer. You are the line unwritten."

"Oh yes, that makes everything so much clearer, thank you."

The presence, this time, almost sounded amused. "You aren’t prepared to understand."

"Why?" you asked, your voice raw with exasperation.

"Because knowing too much too soon unravels a thread that is already strained. If you pull on it now, it may snap."

"All this talk of 'threads', but threads of what?"

"Of life itself."

Surrendering to the doppleganer’s words, too exhausted to argue about matters that would only add more confusion to your tumultuous mind, you studied the intricate round configurations inscribed into the glyph, sensing its mystical energy intertwining with your force.

"You brought me to this hidden corner of my head, separating me from my familiar. And for what purpose? Just to show me this glyph? What should I do now, then?"

"Live. Create from your imagination. Embrace the infinite depths of love and devotion. Become the mother you are called to be. But speak of it to no one, not even him."

"Why must I keep this from Morpheus, of all beings?"

"You must walk this path alone, or neither of you will reach its end."

You clutched your pendant, feeling the warmth of your light mingling with the stone's power. "I want complete honesty with him, no secrets between us."

"Still, your silence guards him. You will do the right thing, the only one that can give you both what you seek."

"What might that be?"

Its hand brushed your cheek with the faintest touch. "Eternity."

"But—"

"This is your gift, Y/N. Protect it well."

A tempestuous wind dispersed the haze as the being pressed its fingers to your furrowed brow, causing your flesh to prickle and buzz. More white vapors surrounded your form and consumed the scene, your light waning into oblivion, bringing your clone with it.

Then, like a house of cards, the entire dream crumbled into darkness.

Consciousness returned with a sharp intake of breath, and as you regained your bearings, the chamber in the Dreaming fully shaped in front of you, its vast panorama visible through the grand window. A strange tingling sensation prickled across your forehead, yet upon examination with your fingertips, the skin was still smooth and unchanged, only slightly warmer compared to its usual temperature.

Exhaling softly, you swept your tousled locks away from your visage and drew back the starry covers, your bare feet padding softly across the floor as you retrieved the flowing vestment suspended from the bed's canopy. Draping it around your shoulders and allowing its fabric to billow gracefully behind you, you quietly made your way to the door, easing it open just enough to slip outside.

The palace corridors lay empty and silent, save for a few beings gliding along distant staircases and remote passageways. You navigated purposefully toward your intended sanctuary, your footfalls whisper-soft against the luminescent marble as you wound through archways and past entrances. At last, you reached the workshop Morpheus had conjured for your artistic endeavors, gliding inside among the bust mannequins and glassy butterflies whose iridescence intensified in the nocturnal glow. They flapped their wings slightly while remaining stationary in their places.

Approaching the mahogany writing desk, you retrieved the pristine leather-bound journal that awaited its first inscription. Grasping a pencil, you delicately turned to the final leaf, meticulously recreating the enigmatic emblem from your dream in the lower margin. Although you ignored its real significance, an inexplicable impulse drove you to preserve its likeness before it could fade from memory. 

You stared at the finished sigil intently, its strange charm mesmerizing your thoughts, when a shadow moved in your peripheral vision.

"Y/N?" Morpheus' voice intoned tenderly.

With cool nonchalance, you closed the journal against your chest and pivoted to face him. 

"What brings you here? You should rest, my love."

"I just woke up feeling strangely inspired," you explained, masking a hint of regret behind your smile. "I wanted to sketch it, or else I may forget about it tomorrow."

"A mind such as yours brims with creativity. Each idea more extraordinary than the last."

The Dream King was, in fact, blissfully unaware of the occurance.

You wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed his lips, setting your journal back on the desk. "I do have my limits though. After all, you are the true master creator here."

"And yet, even in my vastness, I find myself humbled by such magnificence before me."

"Oh, you flatterer!" 

You abandoned yourself into his embrace, momentarily forgetting about the journal and the glyph reproduced inside.

"I just know that when our daughter is born, she'll be the most beautiful of all."

"Then I shall have two most precious muses gracing my realm with their… inspiring presence."

"You must walk this path alone, or neither of you will reach its end."

"Your silence guards him. You will do the right thing, the only one that can give you both to what you seek."

"This is your gift, Y/N. Protect it well."

You peered at the leather-bound tome once more, maintaining your serene expression intact. The symbol held secrets meant for another time, and divulging its existence felt intuitively incorrect. The marking was now safely preserved among those pages, awaiting the moment of its necessity. For the present, you rejected the burden of metaphysical interference disrupting the happines you were building together, as nothing felt more right than being with the one you loved.

"Keep those sweet words flowing, and sleep will be the last thing on my mind."

His eyes sparkled with mischievous intent, his mouth curved into a faint, playful smirk. "If you do not want to sleep, then perhaps I shall find another form of entertainment.”

Your brow quirked upward, your embrace tightening as you arched closer to his countenance. "Well, I'm not tired anymore. By all means, my King, do entertain me."

Historic establishments always held an incredible allure. The Old Coffee House in Soho beckoned you whenever moments of leisure presented themselves, a venerable place that had weathered centuries since its 1772 origins, seamlessly blending traditional culture with the vibrant spirit of modern London's tavern scene**.**

You perused your digital correspondence and browsed haute couture updates on your mobile device, while a steaming cup of aromatic brew rested atop the rustic oak surface of the table. Your palm settled tenderly on your abdomen, an instinctive motion that had become second nature and deepened the connection with your unborn little one.

A newcomer breezed through the entrance, exchanging pleasantries with the baristas as her footwear echoed across the plush flooring. Your gaze caught sight of her ensemble - an elegant trench coat, classic British boots, and a fashionable handbag draped casually from her shoulder. Your artistic sensibilities compelled you to analyze her style, but you refocused on your phone and feigned disinterest in her movements. 

Yet this mysterious visitor evidently harbored intentions of her own.

"Mind if I sit?"

You glanced up at her face to confirm she was indeed addressing you, your eyes flashing with mild surprise. "Uh… no, not at all…"

“They still serve that bloody rosehip blend here, don’t they?” she asked, eyeing the tea as she lowered herself onto the adjacent stool.

You blinked and nodded, shifting to sit straighter against the leather couch. Had she mistaken you for someone else, or had you forgotten meeting this woman before?

She offered a gentle smile, brushing aside her chestnut locks, and placed her forearms against the wooden surface. An enigmatic silence descended upon you as she scrutinized your features with an unreadable yet penetrating stare.

"So. Dream of the Endless? Must be one hell of a bedtime story."

The moment she spoke again, you almost choked on your tea.

Your eyes darted furtively around the café to scan for potential listeners within earshot. With hushed tones, you asked, "You know him?"

"We’ve crossed paths. Bit of a moody bastard, but he’s all right. Word is you've managed to soften him up quite a bit."

"I suppose so."

A peculiar disquiet crept over you, leaving you ambivalent about whether her approach was genuine curiosity or if she represented another foe seeking to disturb your tranquility. Her attention dropped to the flashy pendant around your neck, then drifted down to assess your growing belly, where your child with Dream resided.

"Oi, look. You’re not just shacking up with some cosmic entity here. You’re a walking crack in the universe’s blueprint. And believe me, that’s not an insult."

"Thanks... I guess. Though I'm not quite sure what you mean by 'walking crack.'"

"I don't have all the answers myself. But being a magic user, let's just say I notice things others don't."

"A magic user? You mean like a witch?"

“Not a witch, Occult Expert. You know, demonology, black magic, fighting the forces of evil - that sort of shit. Not exactly what most people fancy for a career.”

Finally relaxing, you found her quirky attitude disarming and sensed no hint of danger. "Sounds like fun."

"Pays well enough to keep me in designer boots, can't fucking complain about that."

Shrugging off her coat, she sported a refined button-up blouse tucked into form-fitting denim, her physique deceptively delicate despite wielding enough mystical knowledge to tame mythical creatures with a mere incantation.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if her presence at the café was mere coincidence or deliberately orchestrated.

"So, you seem to know about me, but I doubt Morpheus would discuss our relationship like ordinary gossip. What's this really about?"

“Sharp. I like that.”

A knowing half-smirk tugged at your lips as you shrugged.

"Right then, love. Might as well get to it: Hob Gadling. You know him, right?"

"Have you run into any other odd characters lately? Besides all them supernatural beings you've been telling me about."

"Hob? Of course. Are you telling that he would just spill my story with Dream? That doesn't sound like him at all."

"He did not," she confessed. "Not until I pestered him with my questions and made it well impossible for him to avoid me. I did my research, he's got a good heart; immortality didn't rot it out, somehow. But lately there's been something... off about him. When you've dealt with as much nonsense as I have, you develop a sixth sense for this crap."

"Hob? Mixed up in the occult?"

She pivoted her face in negation. "Turns out you're the anomaly here, in a very strange way."

"Hold on—how exactly did your investigation lead from Hob to me?"

"Your magical signature's practically dripping off him. Given who you're with and what you're carrying inside you, it's not exactly rocket science why. There is… something about you that even my knowledge can't explain."

Had your light begun seeping into the mortal realm, turning you into a magnet for those attuned to psychic frequencies?

"It’s stronger lately. Much stronger. At first I thought we might have a fuckingmess on our hands."

Your mouth curved into a contemplative grimace. "And now?"

"Now I see it’s not a curse. It’s a convergence. You're not just carrying an Endless' child, you're bloody well pulsing like a heartbeat between dimensions."

"So why are you really here? To warn me? I suggest you get in line."

"Relax, I just wanted to offer you a healthy drink. Though I reckon you're sorted with that tea of yours. And while we have a good chat, I could figure out why this world is folding in strange places wherever you walk. And maybe even lend a hand if you need it. First time's free.”

Savoring another draught of your beverage, you exhaled a pensive whisper. "Obviously. I've learned to be wary of people offering help without expecting something in return."

She let out a sardonic snicker, giving an affirmative nod, before bellowing at the bartender to fetch her the most potent libation available.

"Nothing comes without a price," she pronounced, turning her attention back towards you.

"Except I never asked for your service."

Her bearing was distinctly unpolished, her tactics lacking finesse and sophistication. Yet beneath that gruff exterior, her eyes revealed an underlying gentleness necessarily masked by the demands of her profession.

And beneath it all, perhaps, a hidden pain.

After a momentary pause, she announced, "I'm Johanna. Johanna Constantine, since you haven't asked."

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 (currently reading) Chapter 28 (coming soon) ->

[therealmhs]

sad wet cat man is returning excellent

[therealmhs]

Via @SFX Magazine

① Dream's throne is very high and there's actual bird poop on the 16th step.

② Dream's bedside book is 「My Priest Among The Poor (1925) 」by Clément Vautel.

③ There are buckets everywhere because when Dream's in a really foul mood it rains.

④Tom is a cat.（√）

[therealmhs]

new look at Tom Sturridge as Dream of the Endless and Esmé Creed-Miles as Delirium of the Endless in Sandman s2 for the Brief Lives arc ⏳🌀

[therealmhs]

Chapter 24: Of Dreams and Deliverance

MASTERLIST

Summary: Plucked from her mundane life and thrust into a glass prison alongside the captured King of Dreams, Nora becomes an unlikely confidante and defiant voice in his silent torment. As a century blurs into freedom, she discovers her own impossible existence is inextricably linked to Morpheus himself, compelling them to face future challenges and rebuild his shattered realm, together.

Previous Chapter

~From Void to Vow~

The ominous creak of the dark archway door dragged on, a tortured groan of old iron and protesting wood that seemed to stretch the very fabric of Hell’s perpetual twilight. Footsteps, loud and heavy, crunched on the obsidian floor, echoing through the vast atrium, and then they appeared. The same two hulking demons, their skin like cracked earth and eyes like embers, emerged from the oppressive blackness, dragging Nora back into the flickering crimson light of the fire pit.

She was barely on her own two feet, her worn shoes slipping precariously on the polished surface, as if her legs had forgotten the very concept of solid ground. Her head was bowed, a curtain of hair obscuring her face, and her arms hung limp and lifeless beside her, devoid of any tension or will. She looked utterly, frightfully empty – a vessel drained of its spirit, her essence diffused into the suffocating silence of the Garden of Perpetual Silence.

In the span of a single, agonizing heartbeat, Morpheus was there. He moved with a speed that defied his long imprisonment, a dark blur against the gleaming floor. Just as the demons, with a grunt of release, let go of her arms, he caught her, his pale hands firm and steady against her wavering form. He gently lowered her to be kneeling on the ground in front of him, his recently reclaimed helm, a symbol of his restored power, placed down beside them, completely forgotten for the moment. All that mattered was Nora.

Morpheus’s hands, pale and elegant, ran up and down her arms, a frantic search for any warmth, any sign of life. He felt the pervasive chill that clung to her skin, an icy touch that seeped into his very being, a stark contrast to the infernal heat of the coals. His fingers then moved, with an almost desperate tenderness, to either side of her head, his thumbs sweeping upwards to cup the delicate curve of her jawline. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Nora,” he pleaded, his voice a low, resonant murmur that seemed to crack with uncharacteristic desperation, “Nora, please… are you there? Can you hear me? Can you feel me?” He was begging, his ancient eyes, usually pools of starlight and fury, now wide with a raw, pleading vulnerability. Please, respond. Just a flicker.

Matthew, a flurry of black feathers and worried caws, hopped over, his tiny body trembling. He bumped his head, once, then twice, against her thigh, a silent gesture of desperate inquiry. “Nora!” he begged, his voice high with fear, bumping his head against her again. “Nora, come on!”

And then, ever so slowly, Nora’s eyelids, heavy with unseen burdens, fluttered open. Her eyes, clouded and distant at first, found Morpheus’s face, a beacon in the dim, red-lit expanse. A soft, bare whisper, barely audible above the distant clamor of Hell, escaped her lips: “Morpheus.” The word was a fragile thread, but it was there, a spark of recognition in the overwhelming void. And then, with an explosive sigh that seemed to release a century of suspended agony, she collapsed forward into his chest.

She didn’t have the strength to lift her arms, no matter how desperately she yearned to grasp him, to cling to his familiar presence. Her forehead came to rest in the hollow of his shoulder, the smooth fabric of his new leather attire a sudden, grounding reality against her skin. All Morpheus could do was wrap his arms around her, holding her close, her stillness a terrifying weight against him. Please, let her be okay. She has to be okay. He squeezed his eyes shut, a silent, fervent plea echoing in the depths of his ancient mind.

He held her for several tense seconds, the frantic thrum of his own heart mirroring the terrifying silence on her side of their bond. The air, thick with the cloying scent of death and brimstone, seemed to press in on them, amplifying the dreadful sense of vulnerability. Then, a cold, steely rage, ancient and unyielding, began to unfurl within him, pushing back the edges of his fear. Without breaking his protective hold on Nora, he turned his head just slightly, his eyes, burning like twin abyssal stars, fixing on Lucifer.

“I will not forget this,” Morpheus practically growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through the atrium, “nor will I ever forgive you. Any future interaction between Hell and The Dreaming, Lightbringer, you will tread with extreme caution.” The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken threats, the underlying power in his tone a stark contrast to his earlier weakness.

With his free hand, he pulled out his familiar leather pouch of shimmering sand. He poured a small pile onto the polished obsidian floor beside them. The golden grains immediately began to undulate, a shimmering, golden curtain rising and coiling around them in a wide, luminous spiral. The ethereal light of the sand pulsed, casting dancing shadows that momentarily softened the dim, infernal illumination of the vast chamber.

Lucifer, who had been watching the scene with an almost terrifyingly cheerful expression, reveling in the cruel irony of Nora’s broken state and the pain it caused Morpheus, suddenly found her sadistic amusement evaporate. Just as the shimmering light began to encompass them, pulling them away from the infernal realm, Morpheus’s voice, now sharp with ancient authority, cut through the air, directed solely at Lucifer. “And one last thing, Morningstar.” He paused, letting the words hang, letting the full weight of his impending declaration sink in. His gaze, cold and unwavering, locked onto Lucifer’s. “Nada is free to go.”

The pronouncement struck Lucifer like a physical blow, though she showed no outward sign beyond a sudden, almost imperceptible stiffening of her perfect posture. It was a final, exquisitely precise thrust of the knife, aimed at the very heart of her perverse pleasure. For ten thousand years, Nada’s continued imprisonment had been a small, private triumph for Lucifer. A living testament to Dream’s past rigidity and a constant, visible thorn in his side. To have that prize, that source of enduring satisfaction, snatched away so effortlessly, declared null and void by the very being she had sought to humble – it was an unbearable insult. The air around Lucifer seemed to crackle with suppressed fury, a silent, burning resentment. With Morpheus’s declaration, echoing with his newly reclaimed authority, Lucifer had absolutely no legal or magical grounds to keep Nada imprisoned and was compelled, by the ancient laws she herself so meticulously upheld, to release her.

~

In the next blink, the infernal atrium, with its burning coals and tormented air, vanished as if it had never been. Morpheus, Nora, and Matthew simply were elsewhere. One moment they were in Hell, and in the next, they were in the ruined throne room of Morpheus’s palace, still kneeling on the ground, just as they had been a moment before. Morpheus still held Nora, her head resting against his shoulder, and Matthew continued to hop anxiously beside them, his small body a bundle of worry. The spot they had seemed to land upon, where shattered marble and crumbling stone should have been, was miraculously clear of any debris, as if the swirling vortex of golden sand had meticulously swept it away for them before dissolving into nothingness around them.

"Nora," Morpheus murmured softly, his voice a low, insistent hum, one hand rubbing up and down her back in slow, soothing sweeps. His touch was light, almost a caress, designed to gentle her back to awareness. He desperately needed a response, any sign that the harrowing experience in Hell's void hadn't irrevocably shattered her. Through the deep, enduring connection of their bond, he began to pour a torrent of emotions directly into her mind, a desperate, targeted effort to reignite the spark within her.

He sent her the pure, unadulterated joy he felt from her very presence, a feeling so ferocious it had bloomed within him during his long solitude. He projected the sharp, unexpected amusement from her whimsical comments, the bizarre questions about giraffes in trousers or rainbow-furred capybaras that had brought light to his long imprisonment. He replayed the keen understanding that had blossomed when she offered her unique perspective on his past trauma with Nada, the incisive, compassionate logic that had begun to mend his ancient pride. He flooded her with the warmth of her own kindness, the selfless empathy she had shown him even when facing her own slow, agonizing demise. He sent the echoes of her laughter, particularly the breathless, joyous sound she made when recounting her absurd dreams, a sound that had been a fleeting connection to his lost kingdom. Every emotion he had gleaned from their shared century, every nuance of her vibrant spirit, he now poured into her, a frantic, desperate offering, as if feeding a starving flame.

Gradually, almost painfully slowly, her arms, heavy and unresponsive moments before, began to stir. They came up, with immense effort, her fingers seeking purchase on the sides of Morpheus's new leather coat. Her touch was so light he could barely feel it, a mere whisper against the dark fabric, yet it was there – a fragile, almost imperceptible thread of contact that pierced through his overwhelming dread. "Nora," he called out again, his voice raw with renewed hope, a desperate plea for more, for confirmation. And he felt it more than heard it, a soft, almost imperceptible breath against his neck: "Sandy?" The word was a fragile question, laced with disbelief, as if she were testing the reality of his presence.

"Yes, Nora. It's me," Morpheus responded instantly, his voice thick with overwhelming relief, a dam almost breaking within him. "You're here with me. You're in The Dreaming. We are safe." His voice, though quiet, was resolute, carrying the weight of ancient power newly re-asserted. She is here. Oh thank the endless night.

For Nora, those last three words, "We are safe," resonated like a hammer blow to glass, shattering the fragile composure she had maintained. He's here. He's safe. He's alive. Matthew's also here. He's safe. He's alive. The thoughts began to loop in her mind, faster and faster, a desperate mantra: Safe. Safe. Safe. They're okay. We're okay. She had focused solely on their survival, on his well-being, on Matthew’s, ignoring her own suffering in the crushing void.

Lucifer, in her twisted cruelty, had sought to inflict the worst agony a mortal could endure: absolute sensory deprivation in the Garden of Perpetual Silence, a void of nothingness designed to break the mind. What the Morningstar could not have anticipated was the nature of the deep, internal anchor bond between Morpheus and Nora. Lucifer was aware of some bonds throughout the universe, but the true depth and unique connection of theirs was beyond her comprehension. And so, while Morpheus had felt nothing from Nora's side, as she had absolutely nothing to project, Nora had felt everything from his.

In that terrible, crushing darkness, where she could see nothing, hear nothing, feel no breeze, no heat, no cold, she had still felt him. The searing pain of the venom burning through Morpheus's veins, the insidious gnawing of the butcher bacterium eating away at his insides and flesh, the terrifying conflagration of the nova, the sensation of being burnt alive. These were not pleasant feelings, far from it. They were agony, pure and unadulterated. And they were stretched out over what felt like endless, agonizing periods, from one wave of torment to the next, a constant, pervasive torment that felt as if it would never end. Yet, they were feelings. They were enough to ground her, anchors in the terrifying, formless void, proof that he was still out there, fighting, living, connected to her. She had clung to every spike of pain, every wave of exhaustion from him, knowing that if he still felt, he still lived. She had held onto that thread, that agonizing awareness, for every endless second she had been trapped.

Now, with Morpheus's voice confirming their shared reality, the dam inside Nora broke completely. The overwhelming wave of joy, of absolute, pure, soul-deep relief that he and Matthew were alive, that they had survived Hell, washed over her. Tears, hot and seemingly endless, streamed from her eyes, soaking into the fabric of his coat against his neck. A choked sob tore from her, her breath catching in her throat as she gasped for air. She was happy, so deliriously, utterly happy, it was almost painful. But beneath that joy, an acute weariness, bone-deep and crushing, asserted itself. She was utterly, completely exhausted. Her weak grip tightened on his coat, an almost desperate clawing, trying to ground herself, to pull him impossibly closer, to ensure he was truly there, truly safe. Every muscle in her body screamed for rest, but her spirit, alight with fierce relief, refused to let go.

Morpheus felt the sudden, desperate clench of her fingers, the warm, wet deluge against his neck. A fierce, aching tenderness bloomed in his chest as her sobs shook her frame, a feeling so vast it threatened to overwhelm his ancient stoicism. Her gasps for breath tore at him, a raw sound of distress that pierced through his victory. He knew the ordeal she had faced in the Garden of Perpetual Silence was designed to break her, and seeing her now, shattered and clinging, confirmed the depth of the torment. His only thought was to offer what comfort he could.

He stopped the slow, soothing sweeps of his hand on her back, instead wrapping one arm firmly around her waist, pulling her even tighter against him. His other hand moved upward, past her shoulder, to cup the back of her neck, fingers splaying against her hair. With a decisive, tender motion, he pressed her head deeper into his shoulder, holding her fast, trying to absorb her tremors. He mumbled into her ear, his voice a low, continuous vibration of reassurance, "I'm here. I'm here with you. You're safe. I'm safe. I'm here. I'm not letting go. I'm never letting you go." The words were for her, but they were also a promise to himself, a vow whispered into the ethereal air of his restored realm.

They stayed like that for what seemed like very long moments, suspended in the quiet solace of their reunion. The air of The Dreaming, usually filled with the gentle hum of creation, felt muted around them, respecting the sheer intimacy of the moment. Gradually, Nora’s breath calmed, evening out from ragged gasps to soft, steady sighs, and the flow of tears against his neck subsided to a gentle dampness. The tremors that had wracked her body slowly, slowly receded, leaving her feeling hollowed out but undeniably present. She pushed ever so slightly against his sides, a faint signal of returning strength, a tentative movement to re-engage with the world. Then, slowly, she raised her head.

Morpheus didn’t remove his hand from the back of her head; instead, he lightly gave a comforting squeeze, his thumb tracing the delicate curve where her neck met her skull. His eyes, usually deep pools of starlight, softened further, filled with a raw, almost painful empathy. His heart, an ancient, cosmic thing that had endured eons of stoicism, now ached with a searing tenderness when he saw her face. Her cheeks were still stained with tear tracks, etched like painful rivers on her pale skin, and her eyes, though no longer vacant, were red and swollen from the intensity of her release. He had never wanted to see her like this, marked by such oppressive distress, her vulnerability laid bare before him, and it cut him deeply that she had experienced such agony. Every tear seemed to burn him, a testament to the suffering she had endured because of him, because of Hell.

Nora, with an unstable hand that still trembled minutely, raised it towards Morpheus’s face. Her fingers, cool and hesitant, gently cupped his jaw, feeling the sharp line of his bone, the smooth, cool texture of his skin. Her thumb began to rub along his cheekbone, a tender, feather-light stroke, a gesture of reassurance for both of them. A soft, but happy-filled, “Hi, Sandy,” escaped her lips, barely a whisper, yet resonating with all the warmth and irreverence he had come to cherish. The familiar nickname, a secret comfort between them, brought a jolt of relief through Morpheus.

He was momentarily static, stunned that even in this raw, vulnerable state, a small portion of the fire, the unique spark of personality that made Nora Nora, shone through, bright and unextinguished. He couldn’t help but let out a very soft grin; it just suddenly appeared on his face, there was no fighting it back. The warmth that bloomed in his chest from her very presence, the sheer joy that his Nora was still with him, spread upward, making his entire face glow almost imperceptibly with that happiness. Nora, seeing that rare grin, after a brief moment of shock, let out a light chuckle. “Oh, now you smile, huh?” she whispered, the words a soft, shared secret between the two of them, as she returned his gaze with a soft smile of her own.

Hearing that familiar sass, the playful irreverence he had come to cherish from Nora, Morpheus couldn’t help but let out a slight chuckle, a low, resonant sound that vibrated against her. It was a sound few had ever heard from him, a genuine expression of mirth. Nora’s eyes widened fractionally, a new glint of mischief shining through the lingering exhaustion. “Oh my,” she murmured, her voice still weak but laced with an undeniable, mock horror. “And the laugh too? Well, the world really is coming to an end.” She managed a faint, teasing smirk.

Morpheus adjusted his grip around her waist, pulling her just ever so slightly closer, tightening the protective circle he had formed around her. His gaze, now filled with an open, unshielded tenderness, met hers. “Oh no, My Star,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur, unable to hide the feeling from her any longer. “The world is most definitely not coming to an end. I would rearrange the cosmos itself, unravel the very threads of creation, if it would keep that smile on your face and allow me to hear your laughter.” His thumb, still at the back of her neck, stroked gently. “Your joy is a melody I would traverse endless nights to hear, your presence a beacon that guides the very flow of my realm.”

As he continued speaking, his voice dropped even further, becoming a barely audible, intensely private murmur, meant only for her ears, for her soul. “You are My Star, Nora. You were the improbable light during my imprisonment, a small, absurd spark in my oppressive gloom that became the blinding, brilliant relief of a possible dawn. You are the light to my darkness, the unexpected constellation in my often shadowed skies. Stars are unique, are they not? They are singular points of radiant warmth, and they serve as navigational guides. You, My Star, help me navigate my own conflicts, the internal wars that have raged within me for millennia. You are the fixed point in my shifting reality, the constant against the chaos. To see you smile, to hear your mirth… it is something I have come to cherish more deeply than any dream, any realm, for it speaks of a future I once thought impossible.” He leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping further, “You are a light, Nora, that has pierced through eons of my quiet darkness. And I would defy any entity, any law, any consequence, to ensure that light never dims. Never.”

Nora was utterly struck speechless. The hand that was cupping his jaw, her thumb, previously stroking his cheekbone, was now frozen in movement, paralyzed by the sheer, overwhelming weight of his words. He… he said all that. All that, to me? He really said all that to me. Her mind, still reeling from the ordeal in Hell, struggled to process the magnitude of his raw, unfiltered proclamation. Rearrange the cosmos? A light to his darkness? A navigational guide? She knew he felt things deeply, knew there was a magnified connection, but to hear it articulated with such dreamlike intensity, with such utter devotion from a being as ancient and formidable as Dream of the Endless… it was almost too much. Her gaze, wide and unwavering, remained locked on his, trying to decipher if this was real, if she was truly worthy of such a universe-altering sentiment. It felt both impossible and undeniably, wonderfully real, a perfect dream woven just for her.

She couldn't find the words to respond. Her jaw worked, her mouth opening and closing, opening and closing, a silent struggle to articulate the tempest of emotions swirling within her. Anything she tried to form, any phrase that came to mind, felt utterly inadequate, too small, too mortal to encompass the vastness of what he had just bestowed upon her.

Internally, Nora reached, searching for the link in their minds, the bond that connected them. It felt almost dormant on her side, quieted by the oppressive emptiness of the Garden of Perpetual Silence, only stirred by the agony of Morpheus's struggle. She had to look for it, stretching her awareness, almost forcing it to open back up again.

The bond, which until this moment had been empty from Nora's side – a silent void where Morpheus had received no projected feelings – suddenly seemed to spark. Morpheus felt it, a faint, almost imperceptible warmth, a flicker like a distant, dying ember suddenly rekindling. Then, with astonishing, breathtaking intensity, it flared to life, a rush of sensation that felt like floodgates opening. Morpheus had to physically stop himself from gasping aloud at the sheer force of the sudden emotions Nora was sending him. It was a torrent, raw and vibrant, that surged through their link, an explosion of feeling that threatened to overwhelm his senses, a stark contrast to the quiet empathy he had carefully projected to her for decades.

Nora, with fierce concentration, focused on sending what she was feeling through the bond to Morpheus. You make me happy. So utterly, completely happy. The words were less words and more pure emotional waves, painting vivid landscapes in his mind. You make me feel whole. Like I have finally found where I belong, where every scattered piece of my soul converges. She projected her absolute conviction: I don't for one second regret anything. Not getting locked up with you, not spending all that time in the glass. I would go through every single moment of it again, every fear, every agonizing second, if it brought us back to this exact place, to this moment, with you. I couldn't imagine being with anyone else, anywhere else, in the entire, vast expanse of the universe. Her feelings were a boundless ocean of devotion, gratitude, and a love so absolute it was almost terrifying in its purity.

This… this is what she feels? Morpheus's ancient mind reeled, bombarded by the sheer, overwhelming beauty of her transmitted emotions. He had known her compassion, her wit, her defiance, but this... this unburdened outpouring of unconditional affection, directed entirely at him, was a revelation that shook him to his core. The warmth in his chest intensified, spreading through his entire being, solidifying the delicate joy that had blossomed. It was a deep, almost dizzying vindication of his quiet affection for her, a fulfillment he hadn't known he desperately craved.

Yet, even after pouring out the depths of her soul through their bond, Nora didn't think it was enough. The intensity of her feelings, the sheer boundless love, still felt too vast to be contained by mere thought. She couldn't not show him physically as well. After just a brief, almost imperceptible moment of hesitation, her eyes, now shining bright with unshed tears and a burgeoning hope, flickered from his cosmic gaze down to his lips. They were slightly full, with a light rosy tinge, a subtle contrast to his pale skin. Then, her gaze snapped back up to his eyes, a silent question, a daring challenge, a world of affection in their depths. She leaned forward, slowly, deliberately, bridging the last few inches between them.

Morpheus's breath hitched, a faint, unheard sound. His starlit eyes, which had been locked on hers, dropped to her lips, watching their approach, a dizzying anticipation blooming in his ancient heart. He too, with agonizing slowness, began to lean in, his pale face drawing closer, closer, until their breaths mingled, a soft, ethereal sigh in the quiet of the ruined throne room. They were only a few millimeters apart, the air shimmering with unspoken desire, with a century of shared solitude and a lifetime of burgeoning, impossible connection. This was it. The moment, vast and fragile, hung suspended in the very fabric of The Dreaming, a universe waiting for two souls to finally meet.

Then, a loud, piercing "CAW!" ripped through the sacred stillness, shattering the exquisite tension like a thrown stone.

Nora, startled, recoiled instantly, leaning back from Morpheus with a sharp gasp. Her head whipped to her right, her eyes wide as she found Matthew a few feet away, perched awkwardly on a crumbled pillar. He shuffled one clawed foot, his black feathers ruffling with feigned nonchalance, as if he hadn't just deliberately interrupted something cosmically important. He let out another, slightly more sheepish, squawk before proclaiming, "Hey, Nora! Glad to have you back!" It was quintessential Matthew: the perpetually anxious, occasionally brilliant, and unfailingly awkward third wheel. He had been a silent, suffering witness to their tender reunion, trapped between the desire to give them space and the undeniable, catastrophic awkwardness of what was about to happen directly in front of him. Clearly, his self-preservation instinct (or perhaps just his internal monologue screaming at him) had won the day.

Nora huffed out a laugh, a breathless sound that bordered on a groan, and shook her head. "Hello, Matthew," she said in a placating, almost chiding tone, as if speaking to a mischievous toddler. Her gaze, still soft with lingering emotion, flickered back to Morpheus.

He was frozen, statue-still, his face a mask of carefully controlled fury. Through their bond, Nora caught a tiny, almost imperceptible hint of pure murder and incandescent rage radiating from him. It might be time for a new Raven, Morpheus thought, the sentiment laced with dangerous ice, directed with chilling clarity at the cawing figure.

-

Thank you so much for reading! As always, comments and feedback are appreciated! 🩷

Next Chapter

[therealmhs]

Chapter 25: Of Dreams and Deliverance

MASTERLIST

Summary: Plucked from her mundane life and thrust into a glass prison alongside the captured King of Dreams, Nora becomes an unlikely confidante and defiant voice in his silent torment. As a century blurs into freedom, she discovers her own impossible existence is inextricably linked to Morpheus himself, compelling them to face future challenges and rebuild his shattered realm, together.

Previous Chapter

~The Theory of Entanglement~

Matthew, completely oblivious to the silent, murderous intent now emanating from his Boss, ruffled his feathers and preened, seemingly pleased with his successful intervention. He hopped down from the crumbling pillar, strutting a few steps closer. “So, what’s the plan, Boss? We got the Helm, Nora’s back… what next? More adventures? Maybe somewhere with less brimstone and more, you know, biscuits?”

Nora, catching the full, crushing weight of Morpheus’s internal fury directed at Matthew, bit back a laugh that threatened to bubble up. She gently squeezed Morpheus’s arm, her fingers a silent, desperate plea for him to rein in his cosmic wrath. He needed his raven, even if the raven had the timing of a broken clock.

Morpheus slowly turned his head, his gaze, sharp as obsidian, sweeping over Matthew with an intensity that would have withered a lesser being into dust. The murderous gleam in his eyes, however, subtly shifted, morphing into something that bordered on long-suffering exasperation. He let out a silent, aggrieved sigh that rippled through their shared link, a sound Nora felt deep in her own chest, a familiar echo of his weary soul.

“The next step,” Morpheus stated, his voice now deep and resonant, a velvet rumble that vibrated through the desolate air, “is to recover my ruby.” He looked towards the distant, hazy horizon of The Dreaming, his gaze already piercing through the desolation, fixing on an unseen point beyond. “I will retrieve it alone.”

Nora looked at him, her eyes, still shadowed with lingering exhaustion, searched his face. She sought to discern the layers of his resolve, the hidden currents beneath his stoic exterior. She saw a flicker of understanding there, a hint that he knew what she might be about to say, what argument was already forming on the tip of her tongue.

But Morpheus cut her off, his voice firm and unwavering, a decree carved from ancient stone. “No. You will remain here. You require rest and time to recover. The void took a significant toll upon you, Nora. I will not have you burn out.”

Matthew tilted his head, a flicker of genuine concern in his beady, intelligent eyes. “Alone, Boss? You sure about that? Things get a bit… tricky out there. Real tricky.”

“Yes, I can handle it,” Morpheus replied, his voice gaining a cold, ancient certainty that brooked no argument. “I have my Helm and my sand back. I am not as weak as I was.”

Nora, still kneeling in front of him, her hands gently pressed against his chest, started to speak, her voice soft but firm, a quiet challenge in its tone. “Morpheus,” she began, the name a soft invocation.

“Nora, you are in no condition,” Morpheus cut in, an uncharacteristic, almost desperate plea entering his dark gaze. “You have endured days within the Garden of Perpetual Silence. Your mind, although demonstrably resilient, has been stretched to its very limits. You need time to recover, to mend. I cannot, and will not, ask you to endure more.”

Nora’s gaze held his, unwavering, her voice dropping to a raw, whispered confession, laced with a tremor of genuine, deep-seated exhaustion. “You need rest too, Morpheus. I… I know what you went through.”

Morpheus froze. A flicker of shock, then dawning horror, spread across his face, a raw emotion rarely seen upon the countenance of the Endless. His eyes widened as he stared at her, a silent, almost begging question in their depths, demanding: Explain.

Nora sighed, a long, weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of aeons. She shifted her weight, a palpable reluctance in her posture, but then met his stunned gaze. “Yeah. I felt it. Everything.” Her voice was a low murmur, a secret shared between them. “I was in there, and yeah, I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t feel any breeze, no heat, no cold, no touch… but I felt exactly what you felt when you were dueling Lucifer.” She paused, her eyes clouded with the remembered torment. “The burning through your veins, feeling your insides and flesh get eaten away, the searing heat, the sensation of being burnt alive, unmade molecule by molecule.” A shudder ran through her, but her gaze remained firm. “It was… it was enough. It was enough to know you were still fighting. It was enough to know you were still alive.”

A silent, devastating wave of realization washed over Morpheus. He had poured his emotions into her, a vessel for his despair, but he had never conceived that the raw, agonizing reality of his duel, the literal unmaking and remaking of his form, had been mirrored in her experience within the void. His greatest fear, that she had been shattered by the sensory deprivation, now took on a horrifying new dimension. He hadn’t been able to shield her, even when he believed she was merely in a state of suspended animation. The thought that she had endured his torment, alone and untouchable in that desolate space, ripped through him, a fresh wound in his ancient soul. He was supposed to protect her.

Nora, sensing his distress, the invisible agony that gripped him, softened her gaze. She reached up, her fingers lightly caressing his jaw. “And besides,” she continued, a faint, teasing smirk touching her pale, tired face, “if I’m stuck here resting, then we’re all stuck here resting. We’ve all been through a lot, you included.” She gestured to him with a slight incline of her head, a gentle, knowing accusation. “A little rest won’t kill us. In fact,” her smile widened, “it might just be exactly what we need.”

-

Morpheus, with Nora held carefully in his arms, strode from the ruined throne room into one of the few remaining, albeit still damaged, chambers of his palace. He was still clad in his sleek, dark leather attire, which seemed to accentuate his lean, elegant frame. The air in this room, unlike the dust-choked hall they had just left, felt surprisingly still, almost hushed. Dust motes still danced in the faint, ethereal light filtering through what remained of a grimy, arched window, painting shifting patterns on the stone floor. He walked with his customary, almost supernatural grace to the bed, its ancient frame, though stripped of its former grandeur, still conveyed a sense of deep history.

He gently, with a care that transcended his ancient reserve, laid Nora down upon it. The weight of her body settling caused a soft sigh of protest from the old mattress, a sound almost swallowed by the silence of the room. The bed itself was adorned with a very deep blue comforter and blanket set, once undoubtedly vibrant, but now dull and muted, as if the magic that permeated the Dreaming had been sucked from its very fibers during his long absence. It hung heavily over the sides, a stark visual representation of the realm’s decay.

“You may rest here,” Morpheus said, his voice a low, resonant murmur that seemed to vibrate through the very air around them, a steady current of reassurance.

Nora’s body, already aching with an intense weariness, now felt the true, heavy weight of exhaustion settle deep into her bones. Her eyelids fluttered, and she looked up at him through a haze of fatigue as he started to silently turn and walk away from the bedside, his dark leather attire a silent silhouette against the dimness of the room. A wave of alarm, sharp and unwelcome, cut through her stupor. “Where are you going?” she asked quietly, her voice a fragile whisper, laced with a plea he could not ignore.

Morpheus paused, his steps halting. He turned his head slightly, looking back at her over his shoulder, his ancient eyes, usually unreadable, holding a silent question, a flicker of surprise at her interjection.

Nora’s lips curved into a soft, teasing smirk, a faint echo of the irreverent humor that had sustained them through a century of confinement. “Don’t make me drag you down to this bed, Sandy,” she whispered, her eyes glinting with a challenge he understood far too well.

A long-suffering sigh, one that seemed to carry the weight of ages and countless instances of her stubbornness, echoed in Nora’s mind. But Morpheus acquiesced to her unspoken demand. He walked slowly, his movements still impossibly fluid, to the other side of the bed. As he did, his sleek leather attire shimmered and softened, transforming back into his usual long wool coat and black pants, the familiar fabrics settling around him. He removed his coat and draped it carefully over the back of a lone, wooden chair beside them. With a soft rustle, he settled himself beside Nora, his dark form a stark contrast to the dull blue of the comforter, yet radiating a quiet, unwavering presence that filled the small space with an unexpected sense of peace.

A few moments later, Nora, her movement’s languid and guided by a deep, unconscious exhaustion, turned onto her side and cuddled into Morpheus. Her one hand came to rest gently on his chest, her fingers idly, softly running over the extremely soft black t-shirt he wore. Morpheus, who had instinctually raised his arm as Nora turned into him, held it frozen above her. His ancient eyes, unblinking in the dimness, watched her, a new sensation blossoming within him. She seeks comfort, even in slumber, he mused, a flicker of something akin to wonder stirring in his endless soul. Nora, with her boundless spirit and unwavering loyalty… this closeness she offers, so freely given, so utterly trusting. Slowly, with infinite care, he lowered his arm and wrapped it around Nora’s upper back, his hand gently cupping her shoulder. Nora, operating on instinct and utter depletion, was almost immediately lost to the depths of sleep, her breathing evening out into a soft, steady rhythm, a testament to her utter exhaustion.

This was a very new scenario for Morpheus. To have Nora, so utterly fragile yet so incredibly resilient, nestled so close, utterly trusting in her unconsciousness. Her warmth, her very presence… it is a solace I never wish to be without again. He found his heart warmed by the intimate contact, a surprising and intensely enjoyable sensation that spread through him, quiet and persistent, unlike any dream or nightmare he had ever woven. It was a feeling specifically tied to her, to the unique bond they shared. He lightly gripped Nora’s shoulder with his hand, a gentle squeeze of pure contentment, a silent acknowledgment of the overwhelming joy this moment brought. Perhaps… perhaps rest is not entirely without its merits after all, especially when shared with her. Before finally, carefully, falling into a meditative, light sleep beside her, his presence a dark, protective anchor in the quiet room.

-

As the stillness of Morpheus’s meditative rest settled over the ruined palace, the passage of time became a gentle current rather than a grinding measure. When Nora finally stirred from the deepest sleep she had known in over a century, it was not with a jolt, but a slow, unfolding awareness. Her limbs, accustomed to the hard, unyielding glass, now luxuriated in a softness that felt alien and impossibly comforting. The dull ache that had become a constant companion was gone, replaced by a deep sense of ease.

A soft, contented sigh escaped her lips, and she instinctively burrowed deeper Into the source of warmth beside her. Her leg, in its search for a more comfortable position, hooked around something firm and solid, her knee tucking neatly behind what felt like a remarkably unyielding thigh. Her arm, reaching out in unconscious embrace, splayed across a broad, shallow rising chest. Her head, nestled into a surprisingly comfortable curve, could faintly feel a rhythmic thrumming she recognized, even in her sleepy haze, as a heartbeat. She was, to put it mildly, a human pretzel, thoroughly entwined with Morpheus.

The last tendrils of sleep clung to her, soft and warm, but as her mind began to fully surface, a horrifying clarity descended. This was not a dream. This was Morpheus. And she was currently draped across him like a particularly clingy houseplant.

Her eyes snapped open. The dim light of the room filtered through the tattered window, illuminating the familiar, pale curve of his jaw, only inches from her face. His raven hair, impossibly soft, brushed against her cheek. Oh, God.

A mortified blush, hot and undeniable, spread from her neck to the tips of her ears. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand, the warmth radiating from him. Every inch of her body was pressed against his, a silent, undeniable testament to her unconscious cuddle. The sheer, utter embarrassment was a physical wave, threatening to drown her.

Slowly, carefully, as if a sudden movement might cause the entire universe to unravel, she tried to disentangle herself. Her leg, however, seemed to have developed a will of its own, remaining stubbornly hooked around his. Her hand, plastered to his chest, felt impossibly large and clumsy. She managed to lift her head a fraction, her eyes darting to his face. He was utterly still, his eyes closed, his breathing even and deep. He was still asleep. Thank the Endless Night.

A tiny, hopeful sliver of a thought, desperate and fleeting, whispered in her mind: Maybe he didn’t notice.

At that exact moment, a low, resonant hum, a sound more felt than heard, rippled through their mental link. It was Morpheus. And it was pure, unadulterated amusement. He was not only awake, but he had clearly been awake for some time, silently enjoying her predicament.

Nora’s cheeks burned even hotter. You absolute, smug, infuriating…! Her mental retort was a scramble of indignant, colorful expletives. She could practically feel his silent smirk, a wave of ancient satisfaction radiating from him.

His eyes, those endless pools of starlight, slowly, deliberately, opened. They were filled not with annoyance, or even mere amusement, but with a vast, tender, and deeply, overwhelmingly fluffy fondness. A tiny crinkle formed at the corners of his eyes, a subtle betrayer of his otherwise impassive face.

Good morning, My Star, his thought resonated in her mind, the words drenched in affection, tinged with that silent, knowing mirth. Did you sleep well?

Nora groaned, a tiny, strangled sound that barely disturbed the quiet, even as her cheeks heated with a furious blush at his new nickname for her. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing, for the briefest moment, that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. The humiliation was exquisite. She could feel the gentle, rhythmic stroke of his fingers at the back of her head, where his arm was still wrapped around her.

I… I seem to have… she fumbled for words, both spoken and thought, her mind a chaotic mess of mortification. I seem to have… tangled myself.

A soft, almost imperceptible chuckle vibrated through him, echoing in her mind like warm honey. Indeed, he thought, his mental voice swirling with suppressed laughter. A most… enthusiastic slumber.

He didn’t move. He simply lay there, holding her, his presence a comforting, if currently embarrassing, anchor. The hand at her back stroked her hair again, a slow, tender motion that sent shivers, not of cold or fear, but of pure, dizzying affection down her spine.

Are you… comfortable? She thought, venturing a tiny, hopeful question. It was her only defense. If she was going down, he was coming with her.

His internal response was immediate, overflowing with a earnest, almost aching contentment. More comfortable than I have been in millennia, Nora. Your warmth… it is a rare and precious thing.

He adjusted his grip slightly, pulling her just a fraction closer, a movement so subtle she almost imagined it. His thumb, resting on the soft skin of her upper arm where her hand was still pressed to his chest, began to trace slow, lazy circles, a silent, rhythmic lullaby.

Nora finally opened her eyes again, meeting his gaze. His eyes, usually so serious, were alight with a tender warmth that made her heart ache with a joyful sweetness. The faint, almost imperceptible crinkle at the corner of his eyes deepened, a silent, loving smile.

You know, she thought, a spark of her usual sass returning, emboldened by his overwhelming softness, you could have moved. When I first started… pretzel-ing.

Another silent chuckle, deeper this time, resonated through their link. Perhaps. But then, I would have deprived myself of this… unique experience. And such a rare display of unburdened comfort from you. It is… quite delightful.

The word ‘delightful,’ used by the King of Nightmares to describe her clingy sleeping habits, sent a fresh wave of warm, fuzzy embarrassment through her. But this time, it was mingled with an almost unbearable swell of tenderness. He truly didn’t mind. He liked it. He liked being her human pillow, her tangle of comfort.

She let out a soft, defeated sigh, but a genuine smile touched her lips. She tightened her grip on his coat, burrowing just a little bit closer, abandoning all attempts at disentanglement. If she was a pretzel, she might as well be a happy, comfortable pretzel.

You are truly ridiculous, Sandy, she thought, the affection in her mind boundless and pure.

He simply hummed again, a low, resonant vibration that filled her very being. Perhaps, he conceded, his voice soft and vast, brimming with an unspoken promise of endless comfort. Only for you My Star. And I would not have it any other way.

The silence that settled around them was not empty, but filled with the quiet hum of contentment that emanated from Morpheus. Nora, nestled securely against him, felt the deep, bone-weary exhaustion of her ordeal finally giving way to a heartfelt peace. His rhythmic breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath her head, became a new kind of lullaby, more potent and comforting than any she had ever known. She felt the warmth of his presence seep into her, dispelling the last lingering chill of Hell and the emptiness of the Garden of Perpetual Silence.

A few moments later, a small, black form landed silently on the edge of the bed with a soft thud. Matthew, ever the vigilant, if occasionally awkward, companion, hopped closer, his beady eyes peering at the entangled pair. He cocked his head, a silent question in his gaze, before letting out a soft, almost imperceptible “Caw,” a sound that was more a gentle inquiry than a complaint.

Morpheus, without opening his eyes, simply tightened his arm around Nora, a clear, unspoken message to his raven. All is well, Matthew. We are merely… resting.

Matthew, however, was not easily deterred by silent pronouncements. He hopped a bit closer to Nora’s head, his beady eyes fixed on her. “Well, well, well,” he chirped, his voice a low, teasing rasp. “Look at you, all tangled up like a kitten in a ball of yarn. Someone looks awfully cozy.”

Nora groaned, a tiny, strangled sound that barely disturbed the quiet. She could feel a fresh wave of heat creeping up her neck, staining her cheeks a vibrant crimson.

“And who knew the Boss was such a good cuddle buddy, eh?” Matthew continued, oblivious or simply uncaring of Nora’s mortification, hopping another inch closer. “Usually, he’s more of the ‘brooding in a corner, contemplating the existential dread of a universe without coffee’ type. But here he is, a big, dark, fluffy pillow.”

“Matthew,” Morpheus grumbled, a low, sharp warning that vibrated through the air.

Matthew, though unconcerned, took a very distinct hop back, away from Morpheus, his black feathers ruffling with a theatrical shrug. “Just stating facts, Boss!” he chirped. “No judgment here! Just your ever faithful Raven.”

Nora, her face still warm with embarrassment, felt a chuckle bubble up from deep in her chest. It started as a small, suppressed sound, then blossomed into a full-body, breathless chuckle that shook her frame with silent mirth. She raised her head, looking at Matthew with a fond, exasperated smile that pulled at the corners of her lips. “Oh, Matthew,” she said, her voice soft but clear, carrying a playful chiding, “we really need to work on your timing. It’s simply atrocious.”

Matthew ruffled his feathers, seemingly pleased with his ability to provoke a reaction. “Hey, I’m just here to help!” he chirped, puffing out his small chest.

Morpheus, his eyes now open, looked from Nora to Matthew. “As Matthew so helpfully reminded us with his presence,” he said out loud, his deep voice carrying a dry, almost imperceptible undertone of exasperation, and then he paused, glaring ever so slightly at Matthew, his starlit eyes holding a silent threat, “we still have one more task before the Dreaming can truly begin to mend.”

Nora’s chuckles settled, replaced by a more serious expression as she considered his words. “The ruby,” she said, nodding, her gaze meeting his with understanding.

“Indeed,” Morpheus confirmed, his voice regaining its customary gravitas. “My Helm is recovered. My sand is restored. The ruby remains.”

Matthew hopped onto Nora’s calf, his tiny talons gripping her jeans lightly. “So, what’s the plan, Boss?” he chirped, his tone more serious now, his beady eyes fixed on Morpheus. “Where’s this ruby hiding out?”

Morpheus stared at the crumbling ceiling of the ruined palace, his gaze distant, as if sifting through the very fabric of fate. “The Fates said it was passed from a mother to a son.” After a slight pause, Morpheus continued, his voice a low, resonant hum, “The ruby, though seemingly a simple item, is imbued with immense power. It will be more difficult to reclaim than the sand.”

“So, no kicking down doors and demanding its return?” Matthew asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice, a slight slump to his feathered shoulders.

Morpheus’s lips thinned into a faint, tiny smirk, a fleeting shadow of amusement on his pale face. “Not in this instance, Matthew. We currently have no idea who holds the ruby, and so we cannot anticipate what they will do.”

Nora cut in, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow, “Well, so I guess we can’t just… ask nicely?”

“Unfortunately, not,” Morpheus stated, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “And we must tread with caution. We cannot disrupt the balance of the waking world any more than it has already been done.”

Nora turned her head to face Morpheus fully, her eyes reflecting the dim light of the room. “How do you plan on finding where the ruby is?”

“With my Helm,” Morpheus responded, his voice filled with quiet certainty, “I should be able to find it.”

Matthew hopped in place a little bit on Nora’s calf, a surge of renewed energy seeming to pulse through him. Then, with a frantic flutter of black wings, he took flight. “CAW! Alright, alright, you two! Enough with the lovey-dovey staring! Time is wasting, the realm is literally crumbling, and I, your most indispensable companion, am ready for action! Let’s go! Chops-chops, people! No more lounging around like pampered housecats! We got a ruby to find, and I’m not getting any younger out here, you know!” before darting through the shattered window and vanishing into the twilight sky of The Dreaming.

Nora and Morpheus shared a single, long look. A silent acknowledgment of their chaotic but utterly endearing companion.

-

Thank you so much for reading! As always, comments and feedback are appreciated! 🩷

[therealmhs]

Stills from the Official Trailer and Netflix

(plus trailer again under the cut)

Stills via Sandman News

[therealmhs]

“The Dreaming will survive. Even if I do not.” 🖤

THE SANDMAN | Season 2 Official Trailer

[therealmhs]

You know what? "F" you, Dream. You left her in HELL.

Alas, I am weak af. I'd be so down to get with him, even if he sent me to hell.

[therealmhs]

WET CAT ALLEGATION IS BACK

[therealmhs]

[therealmhs]

[therealmhs]

Tom Sturridge as Lord Morpheus in Netflix's The Sandman (Season 2 trailer)